


Love Is

by howdywrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: Baking, Butch/Femme, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Clean Romance, Complete, Corgis, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Diners, F/F, Family, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Grief/Mourning, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian, Lesbian Character, Light Angst, Lumberjane, Making Out, Meet-Cute, Novel, Only One Bed, Romance, Sapphic, Small Towns, Snowed In, WLW Romance, Waitress - Freeform, Winter, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdywrites/pseuds/howdywrites
Summary: After the loss of her mother, Emily Hutchinson is struggling to cope with her grief and keep her mother’s legacy alive at Dana’s Diner. Concerned about her wellbeing, diner regular and lumberjane Kit Acker opens an invitation to Emily to spend the holiday season with her. Together, they’ll find what it means to make a house a home, overcome grief and enjoy the little things in life.-Originally posted on Wattpad as a novella which reached almost 3k readers! Story will be updated chapter-by-chapter here on Ao3.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you're a returning reader from Wattpad or from Tumblr, welcome back! Since there are some strange things happening on Wattpad in the near future, I'm cross posting this story here for y'all to enjoy. It may not be the holiday season anymore, but you can still enjoy this cozy read year-round. Thank you to everyone who's shown your support over the past year!

The scent of turkey, coffee and gelatinous cranberry sauce filled the quiet diner. A festive combination for the sparse crowd that occupied silver bar stools and ancient mint green booths. The windows lining the front of the building fogged and snowy trees framed the view of a strip of little shops closed for Thanksgiving. A football game droned on an old TV behind the counter, the bunny ears bent out of shape and making the picture extra fuzzy. One man sprawled out in the corner booth, his leather jacket hanging off his rail thin frame. His mouth hung open as if he could eat the pumpkin pie in front of him in one bite. He snored, resting his head back against the floral wallpaper beside him.

At the bar sat one of the regulars, Mr. Jo as Emily called him. Wrinkles lined his soft tan skin and gentle almond eyes. He added another cube of sugar to his fourth cup of coffee, the steam wafting over his sleepy features. Only crumbs remained on his plate and like clock work she discarded it and replaced it with his short receipt. His orders rarely deviated day-to-day. A simple man who had never complained about his eggs and toast since she met him years ago.

“Order up-” Franklin the cook called from behind the kitchen window. He slid two plates brimming with steaming pancakes and over-easy eggs, quick to shuffle away and resume his work at the griddle.

“Thanks, Frank,” Emily called to him, carefully placing the two dishes on a plastic green tray. They shifted as she balanced it on a single hand, moving around the freshly mopped floor. The couple sitting on the opposite side of the diner perked up, hungry eyes spying their food.

As Emily whipped around the counter with a tray of food in her hands, the bell hanging over the front door dinged and a cold gust of wind rushed through the diner and swept past her legs. The mint green uniform dress she wore, although modest, still left her legs susceptible to the cold. She shivered and attempted to peer over the stack of pancakes and eggs piled on her tray, unknowingly stepping on a loose shoelace.

"Welcome in-" Emily began, her words cut short with a yelp. Her shoelace tightened, plates clattered and suddenly she tipped over before she could process what happened. Every eye in the tiny restaurant turned to look at her in horror. Everything moved in slow motion. A glass of milk toppled over, splashing over a thankfully empty seat. Before anything else could slip off her tray, someone stepped in and steadied her with one strong arm around her waist. A snow dusted gloved hand grabbed the other end of the tray to keep it upright. Pancakes sat crooked on their plates, but otherwise undisturbed.

"Woah, there," A familiar voice chuckled. Emily's cheeks flooded with heat and she frantically looked up from her tray. Kit Acker stood there, a smile bigger than an omelette. Her round, freckled cheeks rosy from the cold. Dimples caved in, her nose scrunching. Despite her soft features, there was something rugged about the local lumberjane who worked for Kindred Logging. Short cropped auburn curls poked out from underneath a snow powdered beanie. The green button up flannel she wore under her work jacket radiated warmth. Steel capped boots completed her outfit, caked in slushy snow.

"Heavens, I'm so sorry, Kit, I-" Emily stuttered, pushing the plate of pancakes back into the center of the tray, all too aware of how close the other woman was. Kit stepped back a second later and pulled off her beanie. Snow fell from it, dusting the floor.

"No need to apologize. Seems I made it just in time." Kit smiled proudly, flashing her pearly whites. Emily double-checked the tray, glancing up to watch her take a seat beside Mr. Jo. Same spot as always. It surprised her to see her on a holiday. The two rarely talked about family or relationships, but Emily always assumed she had a family to go home to for the holidays. Chewing on that thought, she hurried over to the eager couple and deposited their food with an apology. They waved off her concerned apologies, asking for some refills to which she quickly obliged. She once again stumbled over her shoe as she brought the empty coffee pot to its resting place.

Emily ducked behind the counter to tie her shoe, quietly cursing herself for being so careless. Thanksgiving was one of their busiest holidays for Dana’s diner. Only spreadsheets and recipes filled her head to the brim for the last month. Anything to keep her head out of the clouds. Every night she went home she carried the aroma of cinnamon with her. On top of all her other duties as owner and manager, she wondered how her mother managed to run the little diner for the majority of her life.

"Say, got any new pies today? I've been thinking about having a slice all morning." Kit asked, leaning forward on her arms so she could smile at Emily. Unruly hair curled around her ears, her round cheeks still flushed pink "Let me be your guinea pig."

"You're always my guinea pig, and you're in luck. I tried out a new pie today-" Emily rose from where she squatted and peered into the glass pie display. A majority of the pies sat half eaten, save for the extra pumpkin and chocolate ones that she made doubles of due to the holiday. Her newest creation sat in the middle on a gold platter, the hand written specialty sticker on the edge of the pie tin. The turkey she scribbled on the corner smiled at her."Peanut butter pie with a honey pecan crumble on top." 

Careful, she slipped her silver pie server under the delicate crust and lifted a perfect piece onto a clean plate. She didn't even need to ask Kit how much whipped cream she wanted. She shook the can and added a generous amount, casting a sheepish smile at the woman beaming at her at the other end of the counter. Mr. Jo looked between them, quirking a dark brow but ultimately not saying anything.

"It's on the house today, for Thanksgiving." Emily placed the pie in front of her favorite customer and nabbed her a fork. "And for saving my pancakes from my two left feet."

"You don't have to do that, Ms. Emily." Kit rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding her eyes. The color in her cheeks flushed to a darker pink like a syrupy strawberry pie. Something about it flooded Emily's chest with an unfamiliar warmth. "I don't mind helping out where I can."

"Please, just call me Emily." She pushed the pie a little closer to her insistently. "You're in here almost every day, I pretty much consider you a friend."

"Well, that's the sweetest thing I've heard in a while." Kit picked up her fork and quickly shoved a bite of her experimental pie into her mouth. She covered her mouth and spoke around her food. "And this is the sweetest pie I've ever tasted."

Elated, Emily grabbed a mop and bucket to clean up her mess. Kit's sweet words tickled her, though she didn't know how to express that except for giggling like an idiot. Mr. Jo hummed against the rim of his coffee cup, cutting her an amused side eye as she passed him.

-

Thanksgiving carried on into the evening with customers coming and going. More locals came in late in the day for a meal that wasn't turkey and mashed potatoes. A few passing through Greenwood stopped on their way out of town. Aches radiated through Emily’s limbs and her back pinched every time she leaned over the lattice work on her last few pie orders. However, it was all worth it seeing smiling faces and listening in on cheerful conversations. Working meant not having to think about how lonely she would be by the end of the day. She held on to every kind word as if it would catch her if she fell.

When the sun disappeared below the horizon, the diner grew quiet. Only one customer remained - her loyal Kit Acker. They spent the day exchanging conversation, banter and playing tic-tac-toe on napkins during the few lulls between rushes. She listened intently as the woman raved about how much work she and her guys at Kindred logging were getting done. Like her, Kit held a managing position - and a good one by the sounds of it.

"Three slices today, huh," Emily teased gently, drying off the last dish in her sink and setting it on the drying rack. The soft droning of Patsy Cline danced in the air and the tired lumberjane looked close to falling asleep at her stool. It surprised her that she hadn't left yet. "That's a new record. I don't think Mr. Matthews even eats that much pie."

"What can I say?" Kit chuckled, shifting her weight on the stool and slipping her jacket on. She patted her soft stomach that stuck out a little from where she buckled her belt and tucked her flannel. "You've got the best pie in the county, and I swear by it. I've been to all the restaurants around Greenwood and no one makes 'em like you do."

"Did you visit those diners every day, too?" Emily checked that the TV was off and powered down the radio. Aside from Kit’s shuffling, the cold drizzle hitting the windows became the only sound in the diner. "I'm surprised you stayed here all day. Figured you had someone waiting for you back home."

"Nah, they always burnt my bacon or gave me stale toast." Kit lingered between the door and the counter, waiting for her to finish closing up. Something that would have bothered Emily if she was a creep or if she didn't know her well enough. Of all the men that visited Dana’s Diner, she only trusted Mr. Matthews and Mr. Jo. "Don't have much for me at my cabin. Besides, I like being in town during Thanksgiving, and being here sounds much better than running a 5k."

Emily shrugged on her brown knit sweater. Her keys jingled as she plucked them from the depths of her messy purse. Kit moved to the door and held it open for her, to which she thanked her and ducked her head shyly. Turning out the lights and making sure the door and deadbolt locked, they laughed about the mayor pardoning one of the turkeys from a local farm. How the turkey looked just as confused as the mayor’s secretary. 

The small parking lot was lit by a single street lamp, casting dull white light against the shallow caking of snow sticking to the shrubs and pine trees that cradled the diner. Thankfully not enough to make her slip all the way down the ramp. A car drove by, kicking up water and breaking the serene silence for a moment.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Kit asked, straying close to her as they stood between their vehicles. A hopeful gleam danced in her dark eyes, making Emily smile. The lumbejane tugged at the edge of her beanie, tucking the tips of her ears under it.

"Bright and early as always."

"You work yourself half to death." Kit half smiled, shoving her hands in her bulky jacket pockets. She cast a long side eyed glance at the old blue beetle sitting at the corner of the lot. Emily hung her head, shaking it with a sigh and halfhearted laugh.

"I know, I know. Snow chains."

"You know I'd put them on for you in a heartbeat, it's not much work at all."

"I don't want to bother you with that. I promise I'll put them on before next week." Emily flashed a smile, earning one from the lumberjane. Kit raised a disbelieving brow. "Promise."

"Alright, then. Drive safe tonight, 'kay?" They exchanged polite waves. Emily fought off the urge to hug Kit. She wondered how warm it would be pressing against her one more time. But it wouldn't look right for a manager of a diner and a customer. Right?

"You too."

When Emily turned to head back to her car, all the warmth in her chest began to melt away. The sharp air stung her legs and cheeks. Now she had to go home and face her fears. Like a big girl, as her mother always said. Her tires slipped on the ice on the way out, nothing too terrible. The roads were empty and dark on her way back home. The pit in her stomach grew the closer she got to her street. A pain in her chest pinched her ribs and the aching in her muscles weighed her down.

When she reached the cul de sac, Emily realized she was gripping the steering wheel for dear life. Not because of the roads, but because of the dark house at the end of the street. Her home. While the neighbor's houses were filled with warmth and family, her house stood empty and sullen. No lights on to greet her. No warm food to sit down to, not that she could stomach anything anyway.

Emily hesitated leaving her car. It would be so easy to just sleep in her beetle and change uniforms before her next shift. She always kept a spare at the diner and in her trunk. It would be easier to sleep on a sack of potatoes rather than her bed. However, the piercing cold began to seep in through the cracks of her doors, threatening to swallow her. She took her purse and reluctantly left the safety of her car.

Fresh snow crunched under her torn up sneakers. The front door, obscured in shadow, looked more like the entrance to a dark, lonely cave than a happy home. It was different now that her mother was dead. Before, she would come home to her bed bound mother and go through their nightly routine of feeding and taking care of her. There was a reason to come home, even if seeing her in pain hurt her.

But now? Now there was no one to give her a kiss on the cheek when she brought home soup. No one to stroke her hair when she had a hard day at work. No one whose smile would make all the hard work worth it.

Emily sank down on the front step of her house. She didn't care that the ice caked on the concrete stung her thighs or that it soaked the skirt of her uniform. A sob crawled out of her throat, drowned out by a howl of wind and rustling of trees. She curled up as small as she could and trembled. She knew if she kept living like this, the loneliness would destroy her. With no other option to turn to, she would just have to let it hurt one more night.


	2. Ice Skating

Steam brushed over Emily’s face as she poured Mr. Jo’s fourth cup of coffee. The scent would stick to her clothes at the end of the day, intermixed with the sweet peanut butter and chocolate pie filling she made fresh earlier. The low drone of classic country music filled the small diner, accompanying the scraping of a lone fork and knife against a plate. With only a few more hours left in the work day, Dana’s Diner found itself stuck in a sluggish lull.

Ding ding.

Emily looked up from the receipt pad she scribbled Mr. Jo’s order on and spied Isaac Mathews bundled up in his winter gear. He hobbled towards her, a hand clutching his bad leg and his old face lined with concern. He pointed out the frosted window to her little blue Volkswagen beetle that sat at the corner of the lot. “Ms. Emily, I think there’s a fella out there doing something funny to your car,” he said, squinting at her. He must have forgotten his glasses again. Straightening up, her brows furrowed and she tried to see past the snow that piled on top of her vehicle. Panic began to trickle through her veins.

“What do you mean? What are they doing?” Emily asked, frantically patting her pockets for her keys. In all her years hanging out and working at the diner, she never had any problems with thieves. Not even the truck drivers that stopped by who leered at her gave her much trouble.

“Why, I don’t know, but they’re over there squatting by your car. Did you call someone to fix your car?”

“No, I didn’t-” Emily hurried to the door, leaving her jacket behind. The door chimed when she pushed it open, her worn out shows scraping against the thin ice that built up along the ramp leading down to the sparse parking lot. Footprints had packed the snow down, making it easier to walk on, though she made a frantic mental note reminding herself to call one of the local highschoolers to come shovel it for a quick buck. 

Cold air nipped at her exposed skin. A stiff breeze blew snow off the surrounding pines and swept through her hair. Her heart leapt into her throat when she spied a figure ducked down behind her car. Lo and behold, on her driver’s side, she found messy auburn curls stubbornly sticking out from under a roughed up ballcap. Swaddled in a tan Kindred Logging Co. jacket and a plaid scarf, Kit finished off the last fastener on the snow chains that now fitted the beetle’s tires.

“Kit?” Emily squeaked. Butterflies attacked her stomach, banishing the anxiety. Another gust of wind ruffled her pale green uniform which provided little protection from the chill. “What are you doing? It’s cold out, you could get sick and-” she raised an eyebrow at the snow chains, wrapping her arms around herself to stay warm. 

“Every morning for the last two weeks I’ve been coming in and reminding you to put these suckers on,” Kit laughed, pushing herself up to a stand. She bumped the front tire with the toe of her steel capped boots. “So I figured I’d do it for you since you’ve been working yourself to the bone.” Kind dark eyes looked Emily up and down as she approached. Gloved hands shook off the ice they picked up from her handiwork “And if anyone’s going to get sick here, it’s you. In you go, missy.” 

“You really didn’t need to do that, Kit,” Emily insisted, dropping her eyes to the ground to avoid making the other woman aware of how flustered she had become. Warmth flooded her cheeks despite the sting of the winter air. A warm arm wrapped around her shoulders and Kit ushered her towards the diner. She relished in the warmth, finding herself leaning into her touch. 

“Don’t worry, hey? I wouldn’t be able to have another slice of your pie if something were to happen to you.” Her loyal customer opened the door with her free hand.

Familiar heads in the diner swiveled around when the two of them walked in. Kit didn’t drop her arm from around Emily’s shoulders right away, leading her over to the counter with a bright grin on her face. Mr. Jo raised a knowing brow but said nothing as he finished the last few drops of his coffee. The mug clattered against the counter, hiding his small chuckle.

“Oh, Kit!” Mr. Matthews exclaimed from his place beside Mr. Jo. The apples of his cheeks rounded like a mall santa’s. He took off his plaid cap in greeting, greying hair sticking out every which way. “Didn’t recognize you out there. You here for dinner?”

“More like dessert.” Kit’s arm lingered around her waist before eventually unraveling. Emily already missed its warmth. The cold stuck to her like toffee in her teeth. She moved to the other side of the counter to pull out the butterscotch pie Mr. Matthews requested for pickup that evening.

“Miss Emily, how’s the packing coming along?” The old man leaned against the counter with a gruff sigh, leaning all of his weight on his good leg. The lines around his eyes tightened and his round cheeks stuck out even under his beard. Anxiety pooled in her stomach, her hands pausing over the numbers on the register. 

About a month ago, Mr. Matthews offered to buy her Mama’s home off of her and let her move into the cozy apartment above his pharmacy. On one hand, it relieved her to not have to worry about property taxes or keeping up with the old bungalow that had deteriorated over the years. But on the other, all those evenings alone amid a mess of boxes and clutter made her sick with sorrow. Every knick knack held precious memories. From the old, splintered wooden spoon she and Mama used to make Kool-aid to the little ceramic gnomes Mama collected and kept on the mantle. 

A life without her didn’t require little gnomes, but Emily couldn’t bring herself to touch them. Even Mama’s room had been left exactly how she left it. Home no longer felt like home anymore. She wished she could snap her fingers and all of it would be taken care of.

“It’s coming along.” It wasn’t the truth, nor a blatant lie. Emily put on her best customer service smile for her oldest family friend. “It’ll be nice starting the new year in a new place.”

“I remember when I helped Dana move into that old place.” Mr. Matthews chuckled, slapping Mr. Jo on the back who was preparing to leave. “You remember, Jo? Little Emily came running out of the house screaming bloody murder ‘cause of that mouse she found in the living room.”

“I remember. Nearly ran face first into that old thorny bush we cut down that next spring.” Mr. Jo laid down an extra dollar as a tip for his small order. 

“Still scared of mice, Emily?” Kit smirked with a playful wink. Emily giggled, quickly averting her eyes and feigning concentration on the red ribbon she tied around the butterscotch pie box. 

“I actually think they’re pretty cute. I don’t even remember that day,” She mused.

“You were only about yay high-” Mr. Matthews held his hand out beside him, measuring only a couple feet off the ground. “You also used to stand on that old stool by Dana. You always went nuts with the sprinkles on the cupcakes she used to sell. I reckon your mama didn’t mind the mess as long as you were happy.” 

Emily’s throat tightened and she didn’t respond immediately for fear of bursting into tears. The exhaustion from the Thanksgiving rush still weighed on her, too, making her easy to upset. She murmured a half hearted ‘yeah’. Perhaps sensing the mood shift or reading her face, Mr. Matthews smoothed a hand over his beard and turned his attention to Kit. “Say, are you going to that skating thing tonight in town?”

“Skating thing?” Some of her unease ebbed and Emily’s interest was piqued. A skating event sounded familiar. She moved to the cork bulletin board hanging just below the old wall mounted television. Papers littered its worn face, everything from MLM advertisements to little church cards inviting people in for their holiday sermons. Right in the middle, a wrinkled piece of paper announced a community event in downtown. Clipart reindeer skated around the bold text. “That’s today? Gosh, time keeps slipping away.”

“Well, do you wanna go?” Kit piped up, watching her with bright eyes. The men looked her way in anticipation. “I don’t mind driving you since it’s slick out.” Though the offer seemed tempting, Emily wasn’t sure she could close up shop early. Not when she had plenty of work to prep for the weekend and the possibility that more customers would come flooding in for a last minute dinner before hitting the skating event downtown. She didn’t think she deserved a night out after such a slow day. Dropping her head, she shook it sullenly. 

“No, I couldn’t. I have to finish the dinner rush and clean up-”

“Dinner rush?” Kit gestured towards the rows of empty booths. “I don’t see a rush. You should go out - have fun! You’re always working.” That much was true. Emily rarely took a day off. In reality, few customers would visit the diner when Greenwood put on a community event. Mulling it over, she paced behind the counter and wiped some nonexistent crumbs off the metal work surface.

“Kit’s right.” Mr. Matthews stroked his beard. “We never see you take a break. You know your Mama would want you to have fun every once in a while.” Emily’s chest tightened. She could hear her mom’s voice in the back of her mind reminding her to take care of herself. Even on her deathbed, she worried about her wellbeing. 

“Oh… alright. If all of you are going to bully me then I guess I have to.” The muscles in her back loosened and the tightness in her throat disappeared. Maybe a night off wouldn’t hurt business too bad. The image of her mother sending her off with a five dollar bill as a child on nights like this replayed in her mind. In a way, the other three pushing her to go felt like a message from her mother.

The four of them shared a laugh as she basket tossed her dirty rag into the dish sink. Mr. Matthews laid down a crumpled ten dollar bill for the pie. He and Mr. Jo said their goodbyes, shuffling out of the diner in high spirits. Kit pulled out the keys to her truck and spun them around on her index with a giddy expression etched on her face. “My truck?”

-

The blue beetle and red truck sat alone in the empty parking lot. Snow piled up on the curb, thoroughly covering the greenery. Emily tucked her keys away in her old purple backpack and pulled it over a shoulder. The thin brown cardigan hanging on her shoulders could barely ward off the icy breeze that swept by, but the prospect of ice skating out-weighed the cons. 

Kit offered an arm for her going down the ramp, to which she gratefully took. Their feet crunched in the icy snow. “You’ll have to excuse my truck,” Kit said as they approached the old, worn vehicle. The bed of the truck held odds and ends from the worksite, namely some stumps and “Nutmeg got hair all over the seats when we went hiking last weekend.”

“Nutmeg? You have a dog?” Emily watched her jam the key into the lock, giving it a firm jiggle before it turned for her. Before she could open the door herself, the other woman pulled it open for her with a smile. Sure enough, a light dusting of honey colored dog hair littered the gray fabric bench seat. She was met with the scent of pine and Old Spice. 

“A corgi,” Kit chuckled, waiting for her to settle in before closing the door. She looped around to the driver’s side and hopped in. The old truck door groaned. “She’s my world.” Emily buckled up while the Chevy rumbled to life. It jostled them a bit, the engine sputtering. A puff of dark exhaust spilled out behind the truck bed. Tossing an arm across the back of the seats, Kit looked over her shoulder and pulled out of the parking lot with expert precision. 

“I always wanted a dog. Perhaps a lab or one of those - what are they called? Golden-doodles?” Emily cradled her purse in her lap and rocked with the truck as it ran over rough patches of snow.

“Golden-doodles?” Kit snickered, diligently watching the road. “I could see you with one of those. I think you’ll like Nutmeg-” She paused, losing some of her confidence as she backtracked. “I mean, if you ever want to go hiking with us or something. Nutmeg can’t eat pie, so I don’t think she would like sitting at the diner with me.”

“I like hiking. Though, my two left feet might get the better of me.” Emily paused, drumming her fingers against her purse. “Hmm... I wonder if there are any dog-friendly recipes out there.” She whipped out her busted cell phone. The mint green case had knicks and scratches along its back from years of wear and tear. Kit glanced at it, then at Emily whose brows knit together and lips pursed in concentration. It was adorable. She saw the same expression when she worked diligently rolling out pie crust on the other side of the counter. It still hadn’t set in that she was able to get such a cute gal to ride along with her. They seemed to be getting along well - as friends of course.

The scenery began to change the closer they got to downtown Greenwood. Snow crusted pines gave way to old red brick shops. Morrison’s Barbershop had their twinkling lights strung up around their wide square windows - old men lined the waiting chairs, bundled up in their winter coats and scarves. Mr. Matthew’s corner drugstore had its closed sign hanging in the window, surrounded by cheerful hand cut snowflakes his grandchildren helped him make.

A florist shop brimmed with customers, all of whom carried armloads of gaudy wreaths and bundles of glittery garland. Kit could imagine the itchy glitter stuck to her skin if she were to touch any of it. She much preferred the quirks local junk stores had to offer.. Noseless Santas, a bundle of elves tied up with string, and the occasional Bethlehem scenes missing a wise man or two. 

The roads evened out where the town of Greenwood laid out sand early in the morning. Kit slowed to allow families to cross the busy street. Garland wrapped around lamp posts, tied off with velvetine red bows and holly. Everyone adorned their festive garb with handmade scarves wrapped around their necks and silly sweaters under their winter coats.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily breathed. Her eyes grew to the size of jumbo sugar cookies and her mouth parted in awe. She slowly slipped her phone back into her purse and shifted in her seat to look behind at what she missed.

“You grew up here, right?” Kit asked, the woman’s wonder rubbing off on her. Her cheeks were stuck in a permanent grin.

“I did.” Emily’s voice grew quiet as she stared at a mother and her two little daughters flouncing around in their matching blue puffy coats. Kit followed her gaze, finding it hard to focus on the decor when the waitress’ expressions were far more captivating. “I haven’t been to town much during the holidays. Mama got so sick a few years ago and…” Her voice trailed off. Concerned she might have offended her in some way, her smile faded a touch. “But I’m glad you convinced me to come. This is beautiful.”

Kit didn’t reply right away. Waiting for their light to turn green, she stared at Emily. Perhaps for a bit too long. The smile returned, determined to lighten her friend’s spirits. “Of course,” she replied cheerfully. “You work yourself half to death. You deserve a nice evening out.”

There weren’t many occasions before Dana’s death that Kit would go out of her way to visit the diner. The drive didn’t seem worth it relative to how far she had to drive to get to various job sites. She remembered Emily’s sickly mother, though. The way her thin fingers folded pie crust like it was a second language to her. How she greeted customers she knew by name and praised her daughter who hopped from table to table taking orders. The mean cup of coffee she could brew.

“Hope you brought your skating feet,” Kit piped up, pulling the truck up up to the event space. She pointed at the red and green striped fencing surrounding the tiny ice rink. In the center of it, the grand Christmas tree stood proud with every branch decorated to max capacity. Kindred Logging had provided it, their CEO handpicking the great pine from their very own woods. A couple dozen people flocked on the ice. Even more stood in line to rent their skates at the little shack just beside the rink. A handful of local eateries set up booths with freebies and treats to buy.

The old Chevy sputtered to a stop, the heat from the vents dissipating and leaving behind still, lukewarm air. Kit dug around in her pocket to retrieve a $10 dollar bill. Emily perked up and quickly unbuckled, digging through her own purse. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, you already drove me all the way out here-”

“Don’t worry about it!” Kit flashed her a toothy grin and nodded to the thin cardigan hanging off her shoulders. “You need a jacket? That thing looks like it wouldn’t even keep a bear cub warm.”

“No, no,” Emily stuttered, her cheeks growing pink. The door handle squeaked, not giving way until she gave it a good yank. “I’m fine. You worry too much.” 

It must have been a lie. As soon as the cold air seeped through the knitted cardigan, her arms snaked around herself and her shoulders hunched. Her already pale skin began to turn pink around her knees and knuckles. The waitress uniform wasn’t fitted for working outside. As she stuffed her purse under the truck seat, a cozy warmth laid across her shoulders. The scent of pine enveloped her. “Oh-”

Kit stood behind her in just her fuzzy green flannel, utterly amused. Her Kindred Logging jacket wrapped around Emily, swallowing her thinner frame like a warm hug. “Oh thank you… aren’t you going to get cold?” she murmured, pulling her arms through the sleeves. 

“I think all that pie I’ve been eating gave me a little extra fluff.” Kit offered her arm again. “Watch your step, it’s a little bumpy here.” Emily wrapped her arm through hers and only stumbled a little bit as they made their way through the snow.

-

“You know what? Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Emily stammered, standing just at the edge of the ice rink. Her numb hands grasped at the edge of the metal gate for dear life, her knees wobbled and her ankles felt like they would snap if she dared to step into the rink. Kit was already skating circles near the gate, perfectly balanced. She watched her do a loop and skate back towards her with a smirk.

“You know that deer from Bambi?” 

“You mean Bambi?” Emily chuckled, her knuckles going white.

“That’s you right now.” Kit snickered. She offered her a hand, using her body to block some rowdy kids whirling past them. They kicked up glittery ice on their way by, a few of them looking back curiously at the two women. 

“Wow, thanks.” Emily half smiled, moving a single hand to grasp hers. The other gripped the gate. She didn’t dare move right away, stuck in place as if her feet were frozen to the ice. It surprised her how patient Kit . Taking a deep breath, she moved one foot into the rink and squealed when she began to slip. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach felt as uneasy as a delicate custard.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” Kit promised. Warmth radiated through the fabric of her uniform, even managing to penetrate the thick lining of the borrowed jacket. Words left her mouth in thin puffs of fog as Emily thanked her. Both her voice and her legs shook like a baby deer. The muscles in the soles of her feet pinched, slowly getting used to the skates. “Just ease into it-” Kit pushed herself forward, the arm around Emily following suit. They strayed close to the perimeter so they wouldn’t become orange cones for the teenagers to spin around.

With a little more patience and encouragement, Emily picked up her pace. She stood proud in her skates, legs stiffer than candy canes and a good portion of her weight relied on the woman who stood firm beside her. Blonde hair danced around her shoulders as Kit slowly led them away from the wall, her arms still hooked firmly around her waist. A smile stretched so far across her face it stung her numb cheeks. The uneasiness in her stomach settled into ticklish butterflies. 

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!” she cheered, keeping her arms straight out in front of her

“Want me to let go?” Kit asked, a tinge of hesitance in her tone.

“Hold my hand?” Emily smiled at her, only stumbling a little bit after taking her eyes off the rink. Kit nodded, flashing her teeth and slowly retracting her arm away from her waist. “Oh-!”. She flailed, arms circling like a goose trying to take flight. One of her hands snatched up the other woman’s hand before she could offer it to her. Laughter poured out of them as they struggled to find their balance. When she didn’t fall, she cried out in victory. “I did it! I’m skating!”

“Look at you go!” Kit gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, taking the lead and pulling her along for the ride.

They took their time seeing as there was nowhere to go. Nowhere they would rather be. Cold hands held tight to one another. They laughed the handful of times they slipped or crashed into each other. Before they knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon leaving Greenwood in the glow of a soft lavender twilight. The proud pine standing in the middle of the rink lit up as soon as the church bells rang in the hour. Thousands of dazzling lights danced off the large red and green ornaments hanging on its sturdy branches. 

The crowds cheered and even the rowdy kids ceased skating. Emily stood at the base, looking up in awe. Her hands gripped the candy cane colored railing that boxed in the tree. The shaking in her legs was no longer from her poor balance but rather her sheer exhaustion. Kit sidled up beside her, a hand at the small of her back. Just in case. The touch sent a shiver down her spine but she played it off as if the cold was finally getting to her. They locked eyes for a moment and the sight of lights dancing in Kit’s dark eyes stole her breath. Or maybe the icy air finally reached her lungs.

“Want to get some cocoa before I take you back?”

“That would be lovely.”

-

The pair retreated back to Kit’s truck to sip their hot cocoa. Emily insisted she take the jacket back but was swiftly rejected. She shivered, nestled in its bulky warmth. Numb fingers nursed the little to-go cup and hot steam billowed against her cheeks. A welcome relief to the frigid Oregon air. 

A cell phone buzzed making her jump. The tune was unfamiliar and came from the other side of the truck.. Kit muttered under her breath and pulled her ancient brick of an android out of her pocket. It had a busted case and a cracked screen and was one of the oldest models on the market. Pressing a button on the side, the noise ceased and she tucked it away in her jean pocket.

“It’s okay if you want to answer it. Is it important?” Emily sipped her drink, ignoring the way it burned her tongue.

“It’s my mom, I’ll call her after I get home,” Kit replied. The conversation fell flat, the air thinner than paper. Emily’s knee jerk reaction was to scold her gently - to tell her that phone call might have been important and that she shouldn’t ignore her mother. That she would never know which phone call will be her last. Or which voicemail she would desperately try to keep in her inbox just to hear that person’s voice one last time. Kit noticed her discomfort immediately and cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on the glowing tree. “She just likes to talk a lot. We talk every other day, and I’d rather do it in front of a fire instead of in my cold truck.”

Emily half shrugged and stared at the steam billowing from her cup. “I don’t know her… but it sounds like she cares deeply about you. Does she live far?”

“She lives in Highchapel with my brothers.” Kit drummed her fingers against her own cup, not revealing much else about her family life. Though she had been taught it was rude to pry, she couldn’t help herself. This woman dined in her restaurant on a near daily basis. She fascinated her and left her wishing she knew more about her every time that got to talking.

“What are they like? Your brothers?” Emily relaxed back against the old truck seat. She idly swirled her to-go cup, relived the warm drink brought feeling back to her fingertips. The question didn’t seem to sit well with her friend. Kit pulled off her beanie and raked a hand through her wild auburn locks and shifted in her seat like it had suddenly turned to stone. 

“You want the truth? They’re assholes. Both of them.” She paused to half smile, hiding her displeasure behind the lip of her cup. A sigh blew warm steam from her full lips, fogging the driver’s side window. “They’re both older than me, Rodney has a complex about it, too. When Pops passed away some 4 years ago, he took over the family business. Split the profits with Jude.” 

Emily’s brow knit together and traced the pad of her thumb over the logo of the local coffee shop printed on the front of her drink. “But not with you? I haven’t seen you work, but you’re a manager, aren't you?” Kit nodded slowly, puffing out her chest a little. “That’s quite the accomplishment, if you ask me.”

“Sure am. Damn good at my job, if I say so myself. My brothers didn’t see that, though. They all but fired me within a few months of Pops dying. Even though I was promoted to manager before… the mess. Got into a big fight over it, too - on Christmas of all days. At one point Mom’s creamed corn got thrown and I stormed out fighting mad.”

“Well… that’s not fair. That’s terrible. Why would they do that?” Emily bit her lip, trying to imagine the sweet, gentle Kit in such a state. Whoever her brothers were, she had the urge to wag a finger at them like a stern school teacher. 

“Rodney thought I should do something else. Nursing or teaching.” Kit snorted, grumbling something under her breath along the lines of ‘dumbasses. “Never interested me. I’m a logger through and through. I’m passionate about it. I’d much rather spend my days around trees than wiping snotty noses.” The two of them shared a somber laugh. Trees were a lot quieter than children.

“Is that why you moved all the way out here? Most of the loggers in Greenwood are from here. In fact, if I’m not mistaken I’m pretty sure Highchapel was our rivals - both in football and in the tree business.” A smile curled at her lip thinking about the football games she attended sporadically during her high school years. She wondered if she saw Kit in passing during those big rival games. Perhaps they passed each other on the way to the concession stand.

“You could say that.” Kit warmed up to the topic. The warmth returned to the car. Talking always did that for them. Like a soothing balm on an irritated wound. “My family thinks I’m a traitor.”

“Oh.” Emily tried to imagine herself in her shoes. Growing up, she only had her mother. Any talk of extended family like grandparents, her father or aunts and uncles were always shut down. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be rejected by someone who was meant to love you. Especially if you grew up with them. “Holidays must be pretty awkward then.”

“I-” Kit paused, suddenly hitting another brick wall in the conversation. The color in her round cheeks drained a bit and her eyes remained on the glittering tree. “I haven’t been to my mom’s place since I left town. Not for Christmas or Thanksgiving. Not even Easter, even though she lectures me about it every year.” There wasn’t an ounce of annoyance in her voice despite how distant she became over the subject. Emily could tell it wasn’t Mrs. Acker that put her on edge. “She sends me a care package every Christmas. We talk every other day, but…”

“Do you miss her?” Emily’s voice softened, almost impossible to hear over the roar of laughter of a passing family. “It would wreck me missing that many christmases.” 

Kit sniffled and used the shoulder of her flannel to wipe her nose. She kept her face away from Emily’s view. “I do. She takes pictures every year of the Christmas spread - turkey, cheese platters, every dessert imaginable. Even my favorite-”

“Apple pie?” Emily cut in gently, making the woman chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s the one. And every year she sets a place for me next to her. The whole shebang.”

“You should visit her this year,” Emily blurted out, surprising even herself with her bold suggestion. She didn’t like getting in other people’s business. Working at the diner for so long taught her many things, including that sometimes it was best to keep your mouth shut. She stammered, trying to backtrack while shaking her head. “Sorry. I just mean… maybe one of these years you can pay her a visit. I’m sure she misses you desperately.” Kit nodded slowly, mulling it over with pursed lips

“I’ll think about it.” She conceded at last.

That was enough to satisfy Emily. At least for a little while. She told herself she needed to be more mindful about where she stuck her nose. Kit was a friend - not a partner or a spouse. Besides, she doubted the woman even saw her that way. She was just being nice. She was sure of it.

-

Emily’s blue beetle hadn’t moved an inch the whole time they were gone. The pale light from the single lamp post outside illuminated the snow caking the near empty parking lot when they pulled up. The diner stood dark and still. Ice cicles dripped from the awning above the door. Beside her, Emily rustled out of the borrowed jacket. The brakes creaked as the truck pulled up beside her car.

“Say, I never gave you my number-” Kit said, digging around her jean pocket for her busted phone. Emily folded her jacket up and set it down on the consol between them before pulling out her own phone. “You know, if you ever need anything, you can always call me. I’m a bit of a handyman - handywoman?” Her nose scrunched when she laughed. They exchanged numbers before handing their phones back to their rightful owners. This was purely platonic. The most platonic thing she could ever do for another woman.

“Oh I would never bother you with something like that,” Emily chuckled, tucking her phone away. “But it would be nice to talk to someone every once in awhile. I lost touch with a lot of folks from high school. Everyone went down to California or up to Washington for school and all.”

“Same here, I only have Nutmeg to talk to and some days I’m pretty sure she’s sick of it.”

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries before a brisk cold wind tousled some loose papers in Kit’s truck. “Drive safe!” She called to Emily, earning her a shy smile and a wave. She watched her walk to her car, not keen on leaving until she knew her car started and that she could get out of the parking lot safely. She hoped the new snow chains would serve her well on her drive back home. And that she learned to take a break every once in a while.

As soon as Emily started her car, Kit gave another wave and headed back home. Her mind flooded with hot cocoa and a soft hand holding hers. As she trucked through the rough roads to get to her cabin, she let a hand drop down to the jacket beside her. It was still warm from Emily’s body heat. That lonely side of her took hold like it did on occasion in the cold winter months. A yearning for someone warm to hold. Nutmeg counted, but sometimes she wondered if it would be nice to hold a woman who smelled like vanilla instead of wet dog.

By the time she reached her small cabin, the smile she wore all day had been permanently etched into her cheeks. The porch light was on, as well as the kitchen light behind the old blue checkered curtains. Giving the dwelling some semblance of housing someone while she was gone. Nutmeg barked on the other side of the door, scratching it eagerly. Kit chucked, her logging jacket draped over a shoulder. It smelled faintly of pumpkin pie.

“I know, I know, girl,” Kit laughed, unlocking the door and flinging it open. Nutmeg zoomed, flying out the door to run a few laps around the snowy yard. Her little knit vest would be caked in it before she was finished. Same for her fluffy corgi butt and short legs. She kept the door open, stepping inside the old cabin with a sigh. The wood floors creaked under her weight. Collapsing on the couch, she pulled her phone out and perked up when she saw a new number had texted her. 

This is Emily Hutchinson. Thank you for a fun evening. Call your mother <3

Kit bit her bottom lip and ran a hand over the hair at the back of her head. Her chest filled with warmth. She shot back a quick ‘no problem’ before flipping to her contacts to find her mom’s number. She watched Nutmeg trot back in and shake a huge chunk of snow off her belly as the dial tone droned on.

_“Kit, hi!”_ Her mother’s voice picked up on the other end, relief pouring through the phone. 

“Hi, mom. Sorry I missed your call. I was out with a gal.”

_“A girl?”_ A noise crackled through the receiver that sounded suspiciously like a stifled giggle. _“What’s her name? Are you dating her?”_

Kit groaned, her lips curling in a half smile. She lounged against the couch cushions, Emily’s text flashing behind her eyes. “It’s not like that mom. She works at the diner in town - the one I’m always telling you about.”

_“So she’s the one who makes all those pies. I see.”_ Mom’s laughter was as light as sleigh bells. _“You talk about them all the time, I’m surprised you haven’t asked her out sooner.”_

“We’re just friends, I promise,” Kit snorted, heat filling her face. Nutmeg trotted up to her, standing up on her hindlegs with her front paws padding at her knee. With a grunt, she used her free arm to hoist the snow dusted dog into her lap. Cold snow melted against her jeans. “Besides, it’s nice having eggs that aren’t burnt for once before work.”

_“Well…”_ Mom’s voice went quiet for a moment, hesitant to bring up the touchy subject Kit knew filled her with endless worry. _“You know, the company could really use some help this time of year. You could always come home for a little while - not too long, of course.”_ Her voice croaked, a tell tale sign that she was crying but trying not to guilt trip her. She offered her a half hearted laugh. _“I know exactly how you like your eggs. And your room is still how you left it.”_

The idea of going home left a bitter taste in Kit’s mouth like a poison. The last thing she wanted was to work side by side with her brothers. The control freaks didn’t trust her to help run the company after Pop’s death, what would make them change their minds now?

“You know I can’t do that, mom… I’m sorry. After all the shit Rodney and Jude put me through-”

_“I know,”_ Her mother conceded gently. _“I know. Just know that I love you and I miss you so much that it hurts.”_

“I love you too, mom. It’s gonna be okay.”

_“And watch your language around that sweet girl, Kit. You be good to her!”_ The two of them laughed, the bitterness within Kit slowly fading into a mild case of nausea.  
“I will, mom, I promise.”


	3. A Warm Cabin

A week passed in a flurry of Christmas lights and cloudy skies, bringing more snow than the small town of Greenwood knew what to do with. The hot chocolate got hotter, cheeks got rosier, and excitement buzzed in the air. Dana’s Diner seemed to get busier each day when Kit came by to grab her breakfast. As expected, Emily didn’t call her to come fix anything. Every so often she got a text or a meme that took forever for her phone to load. Curiously, she noticed that the tired waitress hadn’t taken her advice about giving herself more breaks. In fact, she grew suspicious of her.

One morning in particular, she noticed a cot haphazardly shoved in the corner between the ice maker and the dessert fridge. When asked about it, Emily waved it off with a laugh, claiming the morning cook liked to nap on his breaks in the afternoons. Kit didn’t buy it. Once she finished up work that Friday, she told herself she would drive by the diner to make sure Emily had gone home. Call her a mother hen, she couldn’t help but worry that perhaps something else was happening. Something bigger than car troubles or a busy diner.

-

“Oh c’mon,” Kit groaned, nicking a fingertip of her work gloves with Pop’s old pocket knife. She inspected it for blood or exposed skin and sighed when she found none. She held off on leaving the job site immediately, giving Dana’s Diner plenty of time to close down for the night. To pass the time, she whittled at a hunk of wood she found earlier that day. The long shift weighed on her and the occasional ache sent tremors through her hands, making her hands far less steady than usual.

Shifting on the blunt stump she sat on, Kit mulled over her options for the future. She liked Kindred Logging, to a degree. The men she worked with respected her which was more than she was getting back home. They treated her like a little sister and didn’t give her much flack when she dished out orders and schedules. Despite the good, she couldn’t shake off the conversation she had with her mom. Maybe it would be a good idea to move back home for a spell. Perhaps Rodney and Jude had matured some in her absence. She knew she certainly did.

“Doubt it,” Kit muttered to herself, stuffing her whittling project back into her coat pocket. Groaning, she pushed herself up and stretched her legs. The sky was dark and the only light came from the large flood lights they used when they stayed later than expected. A handful of her coworkers remained, all gathering their supplies and organizing their trucks with haste. No one liked being out after dark. 

Deciding that enough time had passed, Kit tapped the tire of the large saw with the end of her boot and stuffed her hands into her logging jacket. Worry began to creep into her chest again and the temptation to call Emily first before heading over to the diner hit her like a ton of bricks. Though it may have been a good idea in theory, she knew the waitress would sooner lie to put her at ease than admit she needed help.

“Yo, Kit!” Bill shouted from across the clearing. Buried under three different coats, looking like an overfilled polar bear plush in the blue knitted scarf his wife made him for an early Christmas present. He tucked it under his chin with pride and zipped up his coat as he sauntered over to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be home already? Have you heard from that girl you took out last week? Don’t you want a second date?” He joshed, slapping her on the back.

“It wasn’t a date,” Kit snorted, double checking her pockets for her keys and wallet. “I’m checking up on her tonight, though. I think she’s going to make herself sick one of these days. She looked ill when I saw her this morning.” It knotted her stomach remembering how pale Emily looked in her wrinkled uniform. The bags under her eyes and pink in her cheeks reminding her of the time she herself was sick with the flu as a kid.

“Oh right.” Bill rolled his eyes, following Kit to their cars at the edge of the job site. “Just taking a pretty girl to the skating rink for nothing, huh? Better go after her, Ms. Knight-in-shining-armor.” 

Kit sighed, shaking her head and giving him a half wave. “Not a knight, Bill. Goodnight, Bill.”

“G’night, Kit.” A harsh wind drowned out his chuckle.

Her old truck welcomed her with a blast of warm heat as she jiggled the key into the ignition. Dog hair still coated the seats despite her best efforts to clean up after the skating rink. A lonely lint roller sat in her cup holder, absolutely caked in Nutmeg fur. 

Bright headlights reflected off the thick white snow. It would only get worse if the forecast on the news that morning was right. She shot a text message to Emily, asking if she was home safe and warm and waited for just another minute. The toe of her boot tapped against the floorboard of the truck in an anxious rhythm. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

A reply never came. Panic tinged the worry already brewing under the surface. Sure, Emily had snow chains but there was always a chance that her car didn’t work or she was stuck on the side of the road somewhere. Nothing in town would be open once the storm hit, and Dana’s should have been no exception. She didn’t even know if the diner had been weatherized properly if the waitress could barely take care of herself.

When Emily didn’t pick up the phone when she called, Kit decided it would be best just to drive by as planned. Just in case. Shifting into drive, she took off carefully. The Chevy struggled getting over a particularly rough patch just at the edge of the clearing by the gravel road near their job site. 

The roads sat cold and abandoned with the forecast constantly barking worried warnings of the weather over the old classic country station she kept it turned to. Through sheer determination Kit entered the outskirts of Greenwood, slowing her truck so she could drive by the diner. She squinted in the low light, scanning the parking lot and building. To her displeasure, the entire place was still lit up like a Christmas tree. Even though it should have closed some 45 minutes before she arrived. Pulling into the parking lot, she spied that little blue beetle caked in ice and snow. More than just a day’s worth of it. No signs of tire tracks coming or going to the spot, either.

Emily wasn’t going home and if her suspicions were right, she hadn’t been going home for a while.

Was something wrong? Was there a plumbing problem at home or something wrong with her car? Kit needed to know. She wanted to make sure Emily got home before the storm hit. She parked beside her car, shutting the engine off and hurrying out of her Chevy. She peered into the dark car, swiping away some of the ice to get a proper look. Emily wasn’t inside the beetle. 

The sharp wind tore at her flushed cheeks. The low clouds overhead began to drop their payload. No amount of ice or snow would stop her from checking the diner. Trekking up to the front door of Dana’s Diner, Kit smudged some of the fog away from the glass door and spied what looked to be feet sticking out from behind the counter. Whoever they belonged to was lying down with their shoes strewn about their feet. Unmoving. She could recognize those torn up converse anywhere.

“Emily?” Kit called over a howl of the wind. The legs didn’t stir one bit. She curled up a fist and banged on the metal of the door. “Emily! Are you alright?” Once again she didn’t stir. Panic gripped her. Something had to be wrong. She shuffled around the front steps, looking for anything - a spare key of sorts. Perhaps even a rock to break the window. A window could be replaced, but Emily? She was priceless.

Stooping down, Kit found an ice covered stone and picked it up with her thick gloved hand. When Kit turned to face the door, a pale face peered back at her from the other side of the glass, gaunt and sickly. She jumped back with a yell, rearing her stone back to defend herself. But she paused and blinked. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“Emily?” Kit gasped.

Emily nodded with a sheepish smile, her keys jingling on the other side of the door. The strong wind blew her backwards with the door clattering against the wall and the lumberjane wasted no time rushing inside. She abandoned her makeshift weapon into some frozen bushes below the railing. Some of her panic ebbed but it didn’t stop her heart from racing.

The door slammed behind them thanks to the storm blowing in. Kit steadied herself on a patch of melting ice they trailed in. Immediately, she took the woman by her shoulders and checked her over for wounds or injuries. A stream of worried questions spilled out of her mouth. Emily's face looked paler than winter snow and lethargic, her nose was bright pink and chapped, but otherwise she appeared unharmed. “What the hell were you doing on the floor? Why are you still here? Don’t you know the storm’s about to hit?” Each question grew louder and louder until she realized she was nearly yelling at the poor, trembling woman.

Emily’s smile faltered and her eyes grew wide. Nutmeg often gave Kit the same look when she got told off for snatching food off her plate. “I… I… “ She let her mouth hang open, the gears turning behind her eyes as she tried to answer. Tangled blonde hair stuck to the side of her face where she had been sleeping. Wrinkles criss crossed her uniform. Tears welled up, turning her green eyes into glittering emeralds. “I was just taking a small nap, before I drove home and all.” 

“That’s… no… “ Kit’s face twisted into a frown. With firm, yet gentle hands, she guided her back to a booth so they could both sit. Once Emily settled in, she turned and shut the door before more snow could blow in and ruin the tile floors. “Look, I’m sorry for scaring you. I was worried. I noticed the cot, and it looked like your car hadn’t moved in a while. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She settled into the booth beside her and pulled off her wet gloves. Her arm stretched over the back, her hand laying against her shoulder. “Is… everything okay?”

An answer didn’t come right away. Emily looked down at her lap, thin fingers wringing together. Her chest heaved. A couple of tears streaked down her cheeks. With the panic dying down, Kit could finally pour her attention into comforting her. After a while, Emily shook her head and sniffled. “No. Nothing’s alright,” she admitted. “My cot broke… I wasn’t just taking a nap.” She paused and lifted her eyes with shame. Barely able to meet her gaze. “I’ve been sleeping her most nights.”

“But why? Is your heating broken at home?” Kit shifted beside her, squaring her shoulders. She was prepared to climb into an attic if she needed to. Anything to make Emily more comfortable going home. But she shook her head and covered her eyes with a hand. 

“No, no it’s not that… “

“What is it, then? What can I do?” Kit’s voice softened and she didn’t think twice about dropping her arm to wrap around Emily’s slim shoulders. They trembled.

“I just can’t do it, Kit.” Emily’s voice cracked and she wilted like a spring flower in autumn. “I can’t go back and… look at all the stuff she left behind. My mama’s stuff… it’s just everywhere.” A small sob wracked her body and she buried her face in her hands. The truth hit Kit square in the chest like a flying bullet. “We always put it up together. My mama’s homemade angel goes on top - that was always her job. And now she won’t be there to do it this year. Everything’s in boxes now and it just feels so empty.”

No words could properly comfort someone going through the thick of it. Life wasn’t a row of glittering Hallmark cards. Kit froze on the spot, at a loss for words. She knew what it felt like to spend those first few holidays without them. How empty and sullen it was to not see someone’s stocking hung up on the mantel. Her heart clenched behind her ribs and her eyes began to sting. Emily’s words trailed off as she gave in to the sobs that she tried desperately to hide. In the hopes of comforting her, she shuffled closer and drew her against her shoulder.

“Hey,” Kit whispered, pulling Emily against her. “C’mere. It’s okay to cry… Just let it all out.”

Emily did just that. The two of them sat there in that old mint green booth, their bodies warming one another. she collapsed against her, burying her face in her snow dusted jacket. Kit laced her fingers in her hair, giving her comforting strokes like her own Mom used to do to calm her down. The only sounds that filled the diner were the woman’s deep, gut wrenching sobs and the lonesome howl of cold wind wrapping around the old building. 

With nowhere to go, Kit was determined to sit there for as long as Emily needed her. It would be a lie to say she got nothing out of it. She would much rather be holding someone in their time of need than be at home waiting for a text or a call. It wasn’t until Emily began to calm down that a lightbulb went off. If the waitress didn’t want to go home and thought her only option was to sleep on the floor of her diner, then perhaps she could do something about it.

“Say,” Kit began hesitantly. Emily peeled her flushed face away from the mess she made on her jacket, sniffling and puffy eyed. She offered her a cheerful smile, using the cuff of her sleeve to wipe away the moisture that remained on her face. “I know you don’t know me all that well… but what do you think about maybe staying with me for a while? At least until the storm passes. Even longer if you want - through Christmas maybe?” Emily stared at her in disbelief. Too stunned to speak. Swallowing, she continued. “I’d be much calmer knowing you were safe somewhere rather than out in the cold. I’ve got the space and the food, we wouldn’t have to worry about any of that.” Her smile widened and she chuckled. “You’ll get to meet Nutmeg, too. She’ll definitely keep you warm. Just know there’s no pressure.”

“Stay? With you?” Emily said in a small voice, her head automatically shaking her head in protest. “I… I shouldn’t intrude on you like that. Especially since I have stuff to pack and an apartment to move into-”

“Well, how about just through the storm, then?” Kit looked around, heat rising to her cheeks. “This place will be impossible to get to once the snow’s on the ground. It’ll be a few days at least.” Though she didn’t mention her disappointment when Emily mentioned the packing she still needed to get done. A part of her hoped they would be able to spend Christmas together, despite not being one to celebrate it in the first place. Slumped Christmas lights strung around her porch was about as festive as she got.

“You know, I may take you up on the Christmas offer. I just need some time to think-” She paused half way through her sentence to sneeze in the crook of her arm. Sniffling, she cleared her throat. “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying? Even though I’m a mess?” Emily mustered up a small smile, her bottom lip trembling with her half laugh. Kit’s eyes brightened and she curled a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. It retreated immediately, worried that it might come off as something other than platonic.

“If you think you’re a mess, just wait until you see my cabin,” she teased. Shaking her head, she took her time unraveling herself from Emily. She missed her warmth as soon as she let go. “I’m kidding. Though if you’re not a fan of dog hair, we might need to get another lint roller or two.”

“I’ll be fine,” Emily laughed, wiping a few stray tears that leaked from the corner of her eye. The two of them shuffled out of the booth, Kit wrapping a warm hand around her elbow to keep her steady. “And you’re sure if I change my mind I can stay a little while longer?” Hands wringing together, her eyes shifting to the empty flour sacks laid out behind the counter. A sack of potatoes sat at the head of the makeshift bed, limp from use.

“I’m absolutely sure. C’mon let’s get you somewhere warm.”

-

Driving slow and careful, Kit didn’t make any unnecessary detours getting home. The only thing they picked up was some food for Nutmeg and a few other odds and ends. Emily sat in the passenger seat, swallowed by the borrowed jacket that Kit insisted she wear. One big bag of dog food sat between them, half slumped over the front of the consol. She watched the dark, towering trees as they passed by. Someone had to really love trees to live in the woods. She counted herself lucky that she loved them almost as much as the lumberjane. When they pulled up to a small side road, the warm porch light and sad Christmas lights wrapped around its post greeted them. The kitchen light peeked at them through faded checkered curtains.

“Nutmeg’s going to be excited when we open the door,” Kit warned with a giggle. A cheerful smile dancing across her face just thinking about the corgi waiting for them inside. Emily’s heart raced. She never owned a dog before, but fawned over every single one she came in contact with. Both she and her mama were too busy to own one themselves.

As she stepped out of the old Chevy, the brisk wind shook the trees and blocked the sharpest bite of it. Her legs felt unsteady, shaking and wavering. Every step she took weighed on her. She pulled Kit’s jacket closer around her neck and stepped over little mounds of snow that piled up on either side of the path leading up to the worn cabin door. It was a small, but cozy dwelling - the tiny porch kept a lone rocking chair facing the snowy lawn. Up close, the Christmas lights looked ancient. They went slack on one side from hanging on to dear life for so long. Other than that, there wasn’t a single decoration to be seen.

The shrill barking on the other side of the door picked up once they stepped on the creaky porch. “Hold on, girl,” Kit chuckled, pulling her keys out to unlock the front door. In a flash of cream fur and green, the chunky dog zoomed over the patio and straight into the packed snow just outside. Nutmeg yapped and hopped around, her knit sweater circling around her stubby body. She worked hard scaring off a few birds lingering in the trees the humans couldn’t see in the dark. “Nutmeg, you forgot to say hello!”

Nutmeg whirled around, tongue hanging half out and panting First she reared her head towards her mother’s voice before noticing the new woman standing beside her. She kicked up snow, barreling towards her ready to defend Kit. Emily snickered and kneeling down at the edge of the steps. She held a hand out for the dog to sniff.

“Hi, Nutmeg,” Emiy cooed. Nutmeg approved of her instantly, lapping at her palm lovingly. Or perhaps just getting any crumbs left from cooking all day. “Mind if I stay here for a little bit?” The dog barked and trotted inside, leading the two humans where it was warm.

“I’m surprised she took to you so quickly,” Kit mused, holding the door open for Emily to walk in. The inside of the cabin, while cozy, had signs of a lumberjack living there. A handcrafted loveseat made from roughed up wood with an old red and cream bearpaw quilted blanket thrown over the back. A single armchair with a plaid green cover worn down to the threads. A fuzzy carpet of a rug sat just in front of the ashy fireplace, absolutely littered with dog hair. A few decorative pieces hung on the walls on either side of the wall mounted TV. A sketched drawing of some deer and another of a bear. A coat hanger stood beside the front door with a pair of timberlands at its feet.

“Ooh it’s warm,” Emily sighed, shrugging off Kit’s coat and promptly hanging it on one of the arms of the coathanger. A deep chill still wrecked her, though, and she hoped it wasn’t from the suspected cold she was coming down with. She spied the kitchenette to the left of the door, its counters nearly barren. On the stove sat a cast iron pan, seasoned and ready to use. It was small, but a decent enough space. Her mind wandered for a moment, cooking up ideas in the back of her mind. She could whip up at least a few pies before needing more room. “I can cook us some breakfast in the morning if you’d like.”

“The kitchen’s all yours,” Kit whacked her boots against the front patio to get the snow and mud off. It went splattering against the cold concrete. “Let me get you some fresh sheets on the bed-”

“No, it’s fine-” Emily interrupted. Her breath hitched in her throat and she barely covered her mouth in time to let out a chest rattling cough. Kit tested the lightswitch by the door, turning on the recessed lights situated in the sloped lumber ceiling in the living room, watching her with furrowed brows. Emily gathered herself and examined the lumpy cushions on the wood couch. “I can sleep here, it’s really no trouble at all.” 

Kit laughed and shook her head defiantly. “Last thing I’m gonna do is make my guest sleep on the couch. Please, you’ve been sleeping on the floor, at least take my bed while you’re here. You also sound like you’re coming down with something” She squared her shoulders and puffed her chest out with a toothy smile. “Besides, I’m strong, my back can take that old thing.”

“If you insist. I think I just need some sleep, I haven’t gotten sick in over a year-” Emily began. A sharp wind rattled the old windows. The storm waited until both of them were inside before dropping a load of snow. It began to slowly pile up. Nutmeg huffed and hopped up into the armchair. She shook a chunk of snow off of her belly before turning circles until she was comfortable enough to lie down. She leaned her head on the arm rest, staring at the two of them in anticipation. Emily smoothed down her wrinkled work uniform. The snow wet it despite the protection of Kit’s jacket. She pied a picture of a round faced teenage Kit standing next to a bald man holding a fish. It sat on the mantel. “Did you decorate this yourself?”

“Nah, most of this belonged to my Pops.” Kit motioned for her to follow her to a door at the back of the house. It opened to a tiny but cozy room. A full sized bed made up with quilts and pillows sat in the corner of the room where two large windows connected. The same checkered curtains from the kitchen hung on either side. It offered a wide view into the woods behind the house where snow continued to pile up. Perhaps the lumberjane was right in picking her up when she did - getting out of the diner’s parking lot would have been a nightmare. At least they left a sign for any customers brave enough to journey to the diner. “Let me get you something dry to wear.”

Emily moved the windows while Kit dug through her dresser, pressing her palms against the ice cold glass. It fogged around her fingers. The shuffling beside her stopped and a familiar warmth touched her arm. She turned a tired smile to her host who held out a pair of pajamas. “The bathroom’s free the change in while I make up the bed for you,” she said, nodding her head towards the door. She thanked her and cradled the pajamas. Warmth continuing to spread through her stomach and chest.

-

“There,” Kit grunted, tucking the last corner of the quilt under the mattress. She stood back with her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork. If the lumber business didn’t work out she could always get a job making beds at a motel. She set one of the flatter pillows aside to use on the couch and smoothed over the handmade quilt. If memory served, it was a gift her mom made for Pops before they got married. Faded and soft to the touch, the colors didn’t quite go together but it was a labor of love nonetheless. Patting her pockets, she panicked when she didn’t feel the hard lump of wood in her pocket. Peering out the bedroom door, she spied her work jacket and sighed with relief. She forgot she put it there.

The door to the bathroom opened. Kit watched Emily slip through the door of her bedroom, clad in her favorite pair of red buffalo check pajamas. They were both too big and too small on her tall, slim figure. Arms wrapped around herself to keep herself warm. She looked utterly adorable. 

A moment of silence passed over them for a moment before she realized she was staring at her. Drawing her eyes away from Emily, she looked towards the window at the snow beginning to cake against the glass. “Seems like we’ll be stuck here for a while,” she said, her throat suddenly dry.

“Seems so,” Emily hummed, but her eyes weren’t on the snow. Instead she approached the bed with a longing in her eyes. Kit rubbed the back of her head and joined in staring at the quilt. 

“You tired? If you need anything, I’ll just be in the living room with Nutmeg.” Emily smiled and nodded slowly.

“Sleep would be nice. Thank you… for all of this. Sometimes I wonder why you’re so kind to me.” She touched the edge of the bed, fingertips running along the messy stitching on a flower print square. “You know, next time you come into the diner your meal’s on me. In fact, you won’t pay for another meal until next year.” Kit chuckled, looking down at her old socks as she shifted her weight from one foot to the next.

“Don’t gotta do that. Though, it’ll be nice to see you working your magic.” She finally found the courage to look up at Emily who watched her with a tired, kind look in her eyes.

“Well I appreciate it. Really.” she reached out to her, though awkward, and gave her a hug. The pajamas lifted a peek, exposing the smallest amount of her stomach. Kit swallowed and hugged her back, patting her on the back.

“Get some rest, you deserve it. G’night.” She pulled away and made her way towards the door. “Holler if you need something. Especially if it’s cold medicine.” Emily gave a small wave and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Will do, but I’m okay, I promise.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Kit let out a sharp breath she didn’t know she held. Her bedside lamp clicked and the warm light from under the door disappeared. Nutmeg huffed from her chair, watching her owner with an almost readable disappointed gleam in her little eyes.

“I know, I know,” Kit groaned, making her way over to the couch and sinking down into it. “Emily’s our guest, so she gets the bed tonight, girl. You’re just fine in your chair.” Nutmeg gave another huff but proceeded to roll over and bury her face into the armchair. Smiling at her, Kit ran her hands over her clothes and froze when she realized she never got pajamas for herself. She slept in worse conditions, though she was looking forward to finally taking her bra off and wearing sweats.

Regardless of the clothes she wore or the hard couch digging into her back, Kit found it easier to rest knowing that the waitress at her favorite diner was safe and warm. That she could be a barrier for the pain - at least for a little while. Before long, she drifted off to sleep with her heart full and dreams of what could be dancing in her head. Perhaps one day she will find someone she can share a bed with. Someone she could hold and love.

One day.


	4. Burnt Bacon

Kit tapped her socked heel against the wood floor impatiently. Her eyes flit between the old clock on the wall just above her Pop’s trusty axe and Nutmeg who flailed her head about trying to pull the soft plush Santa out of her hands. Her claws clacked against the floors, ears flopping with each jerky movement.

The longer the morning went on, the bigger the tidal wave of anxiety grew. Emily had yet to rise from bed. She figured she merely needed to catch up on her sleep after spending the night on potato sacks for god knows how long. The way she looked last night reminded Kit of Dana. Tired and sickly, yet smiling as if the world didn’t weigh on her shoulders. She told herself she would check on her if she didn’t wake by noon.

“Oh-” Nutmeg yanked the toy from her hands with a playful growl, hopping over to the middle of the living room to shake the poor Santa around. Kit snorted, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You won, girl. Get ‘im!” Her butt shook with the wag of her nubby tail. For a dog so small, she put all of her strength into killing her prey. The snowman sweater only added to her fierceness.

A chesty cough drew Kit’s attention. It came from the other side of her bedroom door, followed by a smaller, restrained cough. Nutmeg lifted her head, sparing Santa a few moments of respite. She abandoned the toy and charged at the door in a flurry of fluff and barks.

“Oh settle down, Nutmeg,” Kit chastised gently, quickly rising from the couch. She scooped the dog up and held her like a baby in one arm. With her free hand, she took great care in rapping her knuckles against the door. “Emily? You awake?” The bedroom was silent for a long moment. Nutmeg squirmed in her arm, her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Emily’s voice croaked weakly.

“Can I come in?” Kit leaned her head against the door, biting her bottom lip. Some of her anxiety ebbed and left her simmering in a stew of worries. She wouldn’t be able to get out of the house and get some medicine from the drugstore, not when the front door was blocked with snow and the roads closed down. Luckily she had a good stock of supplies for moments like these. Her guest uttered a quiet ‘mhm’ and she opened the door with a creak.

There in her bed, huddled among a nest of blankets and pillows, Emily wrenched her eyes open and smiled at Kit as she walked in. Color bloomed on the tip of her nose as if she had dipped it in a strawberry pie. Her face, though paler than cream, had a tinge of that same pink hue that drained into her neck and the tips of her ears. Wiggling, she managed to sit herself up. Blankets swaddled her. 

“You look like one of those- what are they called again?” Kit cackled, setting an excited Nutmeg down. The little one scampered to the bed, pawing at the blankets and begging to be let up. 

“What?” Emily raised her brow, crawling to the edge to help the dog up.

“You know those-” She gestured vaguely, scratching the back of her neck. “Those donut things. The hotdogs wrapped in dough.” She made her way over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. Nutmeg made herself at home between them, snuggling in the warm blankets.

“Pigs in a blanket.” Emily’s windchime laugh stuttered. She tucked her face into the crook of her elbow and coughed. Her entire body shook with each one. Kit gave her a sympathetic half smile. She felt terrible for her, though she wouldn’t deny that a part of her found it a tad humorous that she spent a month warning her she would make herself sick one of these days. As if reading her mind, she narrowed her eyes at her. “Go on… say it.”

“Say what?” Kit whirled her head around so she couldn’t see her smile.

“That you told me so.” 

Her amusement got the better of her. Kit snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle the laughter. “Listen, I was going to be a gentleman and not point it out.” Turning her head back around, she was met with a pitiful pout and puppy eyes that rivaled Nutmeg’s.

“Well you were right. I was feeling groggy yesterday and should’ve called in.” She sighed, raking slender fingers through messy blonde hair. Kit laid a hand over what she assumed was her knee under all her layers.

“We left a note for anyone dumb enough to brave the roads, it’ll be alright.” She gave her a small squeeze, letting her hand linger there for a moment before pulling away. “Besides, I’d much rather you be here where there’s medicine and company than stuck in the diner.”

Emily’s face brightened. For a split second Kit wondered if the color in her cheeks darkened out of embarrassment or her illness. “Me too. I just hope I don’t get you sick, especially if I’m going to make us breakfast and what not.”

“Oh don’t worry about that-” Kit slipped off the bed and idly patted a relaxed Nutmeg on the head. She flashed her teeth at her. “I can make breakfast. Hope you don’t mind if the bacon is a little on the crispy side.”

“If you’re sure…” Emily cast a sheepish glance down at the dog in her lap, golden hair obscuring her face.

“Of course I am! Get comfortable, I’ll go see what I can fix up for you.” Now was her time to show off her skills to one of the most talented women in Greenwood. She left Emily for the kitchen, hands on her hips and head held high. Mumbling to herself, she opened the fridge and dug out all the ingredients she would need to make a diner-worthy breakfast.

-

_CLANK!_

A muttered curse followed a loud clattering from the kitchen. Nutmeg perked up from her spot in Emily’s lap, one ear up and the other too lazy to join the other. “Wonder what your mommy’s doing in there,” she hummed to the dog, scritching behind her ear. 

Not quite brave enough to leave the bed without at least one of the blankets wrapped around her, she bundled herself up and cradled Nutmeg in her arms. Emily struggled to balance herself. The soft quilt trailed behind her like a wedding veil. Padding into the main room of the cabin, she was met with quite the sight. 

Kit leaned over the counter top, shoulders hunched, her hands wrestling with a ball of sticky dough. Not a dusting of flour in sight. Her face contorted in concentration, her bottom lips sticking out in a pout. The dough stubbornly stuck to her fingers. Another curse fell from her lips as she tried to free herself by flailing her hands around. Emily watched her from around the corner near the bathroom door, trying to stop a sympathetic giggle that bubbled in her throat.

Nutmeg ruined any chance of stealth with a happy yip. Squirming, she waited until her paws met the floor before taking off to her food bowl. Kit’s head snapped up and she looked like a deer stuck in quicksand. If that sticky dough could be considered quicksand.

“You’re gonna give me stagefright,” she chuckled, averting her gaze. The dough went limp on the counter top and she ungracefully pulled her hands out of it. It stuck to her skin like snow on tree branches. “I was trying to make biscuits. Not sure if it’s supposed to look like this.”

Giggling, Emily shuffled over to the couch and abandoned the quilt. A slight chill ran through her without the protection. Not even the fire crackling in the hearth was enough to stave off her low grade fever. “Well, it might help a little if you used some more flour-” She rolled the sleeves of her borrowed shirt up before Kit shook her head.

“Uh-uh, you’re sick, missy. Last thing you need is work on yoru day off.” She got to work scraping dough from her hands. “You can teach me, how’s that sound?” Her dark eyes twinkled and heat rushed to Emily’s toes when she gave her a wink. Probably the fever spiking again.

“You’ve got this,” Emily giggled, pulling her sleeves back down so she could try and keep as much heat in as possible. “Looks like all you need is some extra flour.”

After washing her hands off, Kit returned to the counter and reached into the freshly opened bag of flour to grab a generous handful. She held it over the dough as high as she could and smiled like a child on Christmas day as the flour showered her handiwork. “Looks like snow. Think this is enough?”

“Definitely.” Emily sidled up beside her and rested her elbows on the small amount of counter space left. She dragged the tip of her finger through some stray flour to make a smiley face. “Now don’t work the dough too much or the biscuits will come out hard as a rock.”

Strong hands pressed into the dough. Fingers sunk into its plush form. A vein appeared, snaking up Kit’s freckled forearm only to disappear when she pulled her hands back to fold the dough over. A lumberjane’s hands would be perfect for a massage after a long day’s work. Emily pictured her throwing logs around all day, her shoulders straining against green flannel. Steady fingers sharpening her axe.

A pain shot through her jaw and Emily swallowed thickly. How long had she been staring at Kit’s hands? “Got a rolling pin?” she asked, clearing her throat. Pushing away from the counter, she went to the other side of the kitchen to open a few drawers. 

“Er, not sure about that. Maybe check the cupboards?”

Emily nodded, pulling open the first set of doors in front of her. Mismatched jars of all shapes and sizes greeted her. Some were old jam jars with the gingham tops, others looked to be pickle jars or mason jars. The other side contained a variety of kitchenware from holiday themed bake pans and an ancient hand mixer that she doubted would work if it hadn’t been used in decades. She continued to the right of the kitchen, investigating the cupboards just beside the fridge. It was chock full of quick, easy foods. Instant mashed potatoes next to a bag of real sprouting potatoes. Mac n cheese. Canned chili. Seasonings in unlabeled containers.

“This might work-” Emily stood on her tiptoes to reach a dusty wine bottle tucked away at the very top of the cupboard. Whatever it contained was long gone. The label faded over time, leaving only some faint script. She ran it under some hot water and did a once over with a soapy rag before bringing it to Kit.

“I think that was Pop’s favorite cider.” She gave a soft laugh, flour dusted fingers taking hold of the amber glass. “I remember begging mom to let me have a sip like my brothers. She said no of course.” Kit patted down the mound of dough. “Just roll it out?”

“Mhm, not too thin.” Emily took her new place beside Kit, her shoulder bumping hers. Even the smallest of touches sent a small shiver down her spine. “My mama always told me I could drink as long as I was home with her.” She watched Kit roll out the dough with a smile. “Never really liked the taste, but she always let me try the wine and beer she would bring home on Friday nights.”

“Dana reminded me a lot of my own mom.” That got her attention. Emily lifted her eyes and found Kit watching her out of the corner of her eye. A dimple caved in. “Always a busybody who liked to make other people smile with her cooking. I wish I had gotten to know her better.”

“Yeah…” Emily’s voice trailed off and she dropped her head. Her heart twisted behind her ribs, the tendons between them aching. Emotion bubbled in her throat but before she could speak she buried her face in the crook of her arm to cough hard enough to make her head throb.

A hand touched her shoulder and left a few flecks of flour behind. “How about you get comfortable on the couch and turn on something fun to watch?” The tenderness in Kit’s voice reminded her of their talk in the diner the night before. Emily met her smile with a small one of her own and nodded. “Breakfast will be ready in a bit.”

Emily nodded, rubbing the front of her throat. Nutmeg followed on her heels. Her cold, wet nose nudged at her bare ankles where Kit’s pants didn’t cover. She grabbed the blanket and created a nest for her and the dog to cuddle. She almost felt like she was intruding by picking up the remote and flipping the wall mounted television on. The first show to pop up was a rerun of a cartoon’s holiday episode. Glancing over her shoulder at Kit, she slowly relaxed against the couch. Maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be too bad for the next few days.

-

Bacon popped in the cast iron pan. Kit yelped and jumped back, the skin of her forearm stinging from the shock of hot grease. Smoke billowed up into the ceiling, burning her nose. Frowning at the pan, she pushed the bacon with the edge of her spatula. It didn’t budge. The edges were beginning to turn to charcoal.

“Everything okay over there?” Emily’s soft voice called from the couch. Frizzy blonde locks framed her worry-wrought face. Nutmeg peered over the back of the couch, her triangle ears at attention.

“All good!” Kit lied, putting some weight into her scraping. The horrid noise of metal on cast iron made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. With the extra muscle, the bacon finally came unstuck from the bottom of the pan. A piece went flying over the stove and bar. It left a greasy streak where it slid across the wood floor. Nutmeg barked, flailing in Emily’s arms and ultimately flinging herself over the edge of the couch. Stubby legs hit the ground and she made short time of chowing down on the accidental treat. “Nutmeg you stinker.”

The rest of the bacon was transferred to a paper towel. [They looked depressing in their shriveled up, burnt form, but Kit figured they were still edible.] Kit moved the cast iron to a cool burner and got to work shuffling around the kitchen. She grabbed herself a plate with painted peaches and a big chip on the edge, and another plate without imperfections for Emily. 

Next to the bacon, she plated her sad, dry cheesy eggs and the lumpy biscuits. To top it off, she filled a glass with orange juice and a small shot glass with some Dayquil for her guest. “Hope you don’t mind crispy bacon,” she announced, struggling to balance the two plates and drinks in her arms. 

“Don’t mind at all,” Emily chirped, taking her plate graciously. If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it. A perfect smile painted her face. Despite her cold, her eyes sparkled like green ornaments on a Christmas tree. “You put in all this work just for me. I can’t begin to thank you enough, Kit.”

“It’s no problem - seriously. I’m actually pretty proud of myself for even managing to use that cast iron for the first time in weeks.” Kit plopped down beside her, Nutmeg sandwiching herself between them. She didn’t dig in right away. Instead, she watched Emily to see what she thought of breakfast. There was no one in the world whose opinion she put so much importance in. Well, maybe mom’s.

Perhaps aware of the curious eyes on her, Emily picked up the biscuit and tapped it against the porcelain plate. She took her time looking it over before bringing it to her mouth and taking a generous nibble. Her brows knit together. It took a good amount of effort to bite through it. With a dry crunch, she managed to break off a piece. She chewed thoughtfully, meeting Kit’s gaze.

“Buttery,” She managed to murmur between chews, a few fingers in front of her lips to hide any crumbs. “Not bad.”

Kit didn’t think so. She jack hammered her teeth through her own biscuit and nearly choked on the dry sawdust that filled her mouth. “It’s definitely nothing like your biscuits. Jesus, this thing tastes like buttered sand.” She grabbed the water bottle she kept near her makeshift bed and took a few gulps to wash it down.

“But for your first time, it’s really not that bad! You’ll probably be an expert by the time I go back home.” Emily smiled around the lip of the shot glass, chasing the biscuit down with her Dayquil. 

A somber mood tinged the air, just a hint of it. Like gray clouds rolling in on a bright, cheerful day, it crept. Home. Kit wondered what it was like for Emily to go home to a house completely empty. When her own Pop died, she remembered picking up extra hours at the family business just so she wouldn’t have to see his empty chair or feel how incomplete the dining table was without his presence. To not have to see Mom cry at night when she thought her children had gone to bed. The memories dug their fingers into her chest.

“If I’m learning to bake, maybe I should show you how to whittle.” Kit chuckled, staring at her food. Using a fork, she cut into her dry eggs and wrinkled her nose when she found the bottom burnt worse than the bacon. “Damnit.”

“Whittle?” Without even a hint of disappointment in the eggs, Emily took a bite while giving her a wide-eyed look. Kit motionted to the mantle just below the television. Little wooden figures sat in a row. Some were shaped into bears and other woodland creatures while an odd few were objects.

“My Pop taught me how to whittle when I was little. Probably to keep me from breaking my arm falling out of trees - again.” Pride swelled within her. “That bear was the first one I made-” she pointed out the rough looking figure on the far right. Its jagged edges and haphazardly sculpted features weren’t the prettiest sight to see. “And I’ve got a couple hunks of wood I picked up recently to keep me busy this winter.”

Emily took one look at the snow the storm blew in and took a sip of orange juice. “Guess we’ve got nowhere to be for a couple of days. Let’s just hope I’m steadier with my hands than my two left feet.”

-

The day passed slow like molasses. Emily drifted in and out of consciousness, fighting off her cold with the help of medicine, a blanket nest and a very cuddly Nutmeg. Although she felt awful for intruding, she couldn’t help but enjoy Kit’s company. It wasn’t so much how the woman waited on her, but the conversations they shared. Memories of holidays past. How much Greenwood High School differed from the lumberjane’s school in Highchapel.

Lunch and dinner served the two far better than burnt eggs and bacon. Despite the chaos of using the stove, Kit made a mean ham sandwich and crockpot chili. With a full stomach and a fresh shower, Emily was beginning to feel human again. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, she noticed she had color in her face for the first time in a few days. The chill of her fever broke a couple of hours ago and she found it liberating to walk around the cabin without shivering or hoarding blankets like a dragon. She twisted her damp hair into a braid, laying it over her shoulder and pulling on a fresh pair of flannel pajamas. Printed penguins dotted the pants that stopped just above her ankle.

The living room was warm. The fire continued to crackle, never going out under Kit’s watchful eye. She sat on the couch, slumped forward with her elbows on her knees. Nutmeg laid on her own honorary recliner. An old Christmas movie played on the T.V. With the lights turned low and the scent of hot cocoa filling the space, Emily’s heart was full.

“What are you making?” She unraveled her blanket nest and fished out the soft sherpa throw blanket at the bottom. Sitting on the couch, she chose to sit closer to Kit. Their shoulders nearly brushed. Her legs curled up on the couch, her knee touched the side of her thigh. In their short time alone, she hadn’t been brave enough to sit so close. Mostly out of fear of getting her sick. Definitely fear.

“Dunno yet,” Kit hummed, smiling down at wood held tightly between her fingers. Bark stuck to the back and top of the block. Skilled hands worked at rounding out the edges. “Just kinda seeing where it goes.” She sat back up, squirming a bit. Emily worried for a moment that she made her uncomfortable being so close. However, to her relief, she merely smiled and sat back against the couch and held out her pocket knife and the wood. “Wanna give it a try?”

Their fingers brushed and Emily gingerly took them. The touch lingered, tingling against her knuckles. The knife’s wooden handle was still warm from Kit’s hand. She situated a small cardboard shoebox in her lap to catch the wood chips. It took a moment to get the right feel of holding the knife. She positioned the sharp edge against the leftover bark.

“Careful-” A warm, calloused hand wrapped around Emily’s hand that held the wood. Kit moved it so her fingers didn’t curl over the top of it. “I know how to stitch but I don’t think I’ll be able to reattach a finger.”

Heat like hot cider filled Emily. Perhaps the fever was coming back. The hand retreated as soon as she picked up the knife again. Holding her thumb against the top of the knife, she ran it across the bark. It crumbled and peeled with ease, much like a hot knife through butter. 

“Oh.” Emily figured she must have been staring at it with her mouth agape since Kit laughed quietly. Something brushed against the back of her neck and she looked up to see the woman’s arm draped across the back of the couch.

“Fun isn’t it?” Dark eyes sparkled, even in the low light. The air stood still for a moment as they locked eyes. The fire grew hotter and Emily’s hands trembled. Exploring Kit’s hobby wasn’t what she thought she would be doing in the middle of a snow storm.

“A little dangerous, but fun.” She tore her gaze away and turned back to her work. The knife chipped away the bark little by little, her mind swimming yet her thoughts were calmer than they’d been in months.


	5. Surprise Pie

Emily felt better than ever the next morning. The cold medicine she downed the day previous proved to be the cure she needed. With new strength in her limbs and color in her cheeks once more, she figured she could put in some elbow grease in the kitchen. It was the least she could do after all of Kit’s tentative care. Her mind raced with tasks she needed to complete. Soon she would need to return to work once they could get back on the roads. Books needed balancing, supplies for Christmas orders needed to be made, and, of course, hungry customers needed to be fed. 

Those tasks could wait until later. For now, Emily resided herself over breakfast duties. The bedroom door pushed open with a soft creak. She scrunched her shoulders at the noise, peeking into the bright living room. Kit sprawled out on the couch, mouth open and arm draped over her eyes to ward off the morning light that peered through the worn threads of the curtain hanging over the windows. Nutmeg perked up, her tail wagging a hundred miles a minute. She whipped her head around, pink tongue hanging out of her mouth. She uttered a soft bark, her short little legs dancing on top of the chair cushion.

Emily put a finger up to her lips and hushed her with a smile, sneaking out of the bedroom. “I’m going to make your mama breakfast,” she warned the dog with a smile. “Try not to wake her up.” Every notch in her spine cracked as she raised her arms overhead in a proper stretch. The kitchen still smelled faintly of burnt bacon. 

Dying to get her hands dirty, Emily rolled up the sleeves of Kit’s pajama top. She inspected the tiny space. A well loved coffee maker sat shoved in the corner under some cabinets. Going through the motions, she flipped it on to start brewing. She noticed a note taped to the fridge in chicken scratch writing. At some point during the night, Kit had written down the instructions she gave her for making biscuits. Emily had to stifle a giggle. Condiments rattled in the fridge door and she cringed at the sound. She cast a worried glance over her shoulder to see if she had roused the snoring woman. When the coast was clear, she ducked in and grabbed everything she needed.

Eggs, cheese, butter and bacon all balanced in the crook of her arm, Emily turned to the stove top where the trusty cast iron pan sat ready to be used. Although Kit may not have been the best cook in Greenwood, she certainly knew how to keep a good pan seasoned. The burner clicked and flickered, the gas catching flame and slowly heating up the cast iron. Nutmeg left her spot and moved to the kitchen. She sat beside her empty food bowl and simply stared at her.

“About feeding time, is it?” She chuckled, pulling out a tin camping mug from a cabinet filled to the brim with mismatched drinking vessels ranging from old pickle jars to keepsake mugs. With one hand, she cracked her eggs into her cup of choice, easily falling into a familiar rhythm. Her lips moved in silence to the tune of Blue Christmas playing in her head. After whisking the eggs with a splash of water, she dumped them into the pan with a pad of butter. They sizzled and popped. She winced at the noise and cast a worried glance over the bar to the old couch. Kit stirred, turning over to bury her face in her pillow. A loud snore tore through the noise of sizzling scrambled eggs.

Bacon joined the symphony of breakfast. That crisp, salty scent wafted from the pan and Emily’s mouth watered. Feeling better meant her appetite was back in full swing. She pushed the bacon around with the spatula, watching it bubble around the edges. 

Emily’s mind drifted back to the moment she realized the roles had changed at home. Right after Mama got sick, she found herself pickup her share of the house work little by little. It started with the vacuuming before one day she woke up before the sun had even kissed the horizon and realized Mama needed more can than they initially thought. After she became bed ridden, Emily no longer felt like a daughter in need of guidance and care - she had become the caretaker. Sometimes she wondered if she even did a decent job. Did Mama suffer under her care due to how many responsibilities she had to juggle?

With those memories came pain. It grew in her chest as if the illness she had the day before stuck to her ribs and festered. There were mornings back then she cried so hard she ruined the eggs by leaving them to cook until they were charcoal. Times her knees grew weak and her head swam as she hyperventilated over the pile of dishes in the sink. Emily never wanted to cry in front of her Mama, especially when she became bedbound. She wouldn’t have been able to take the sorrow in her eyes from the silent understanding that her being sick put a huge weight on her daughter’s shoulders.

Lost in her thoughts, Emliy didn’t quite see the figure looming right in front of her. It took a moment of blinking for her eyes to focus on the bacon that crisped up just right. “Oh,” she breathed, quickly dragging the spatula beneath the strips and laying them on a paper towel lined plate. Just in time to keep them from turning into leather.

“Smells good,” Kit said, voice raspy from sleep. Emily jumped out of her skin and the spatula slipped out of her hand and hit the pan with a metallic ping. Short auburn curls stuck out in every direction. Sleepy brown eyes looked like freshly brewed coffee from the morning light that bounced off the snow caked to the kitchen windows. And as always, a half smile curled at her lips. The flannel she wore to bed was crumpled and unbuttoned at the top. It drew Emily’s gaze up to the hint of cleavage and black sports bra peeking out the top. Mouth full of cotton, she quickly averted her gaze and anxiously pushed the eggs around.

“Morning,” she greeted, heat licking her cheeks. Some of the bacon grease popped and she pulled her hand away to avoid being burned. She jut her chin at the couch. “Are you sure you’re comfortable on that thing?”

“I survived, didn’t I?” Kit moved to the cupboard under the sink to scoop out some dog food. Nutmeg whined, jumping to her feet and running in circles around her bowl. The food hit the bowl with a metallic clink and the lumberjane stood up and stretched her arms over her head. A raspy groan emitted from her throat, a tiny peek of her soft stomach drew Emily’s eye. She tried not to stare for too long. Some part of her body cracked, Emily could hear it over the pop of bacon. “Is the bed comfortable enough? You sound a lot better today. No coughing?”

“I’ve never slept better, actually.” Emily tore her eyes away from Kit. Setting out their two plates, she filled them up with their portions. She opted for the smaller one, not keen on testing the universe’s kindness by seeing if she could stomach a large meal. “Soup’s up.”

The faucet turned on and Kit leaned over the kitchen sink to wash her hands and splash her face with some ice cold water. “Glad I weatherized the place or else we’d be out of water.” The comment was more so to herself, but it reminded Emily that she hadn’t even thought to do that for her home. Even if she had left the diner to go home two nights ago, she would be out of food and water.

“I’m glad you know what you’re doing, I’m probably the least helpful person when it comes to handiwork.” She took her spot at one of the bar stools on the other side of the stove and had to stifle a surprised gasp when a warm hand ghosted her shoulder as Kit took the seat beside her. In her free hand, she carried two mugs of coffee for the both of them.

“You didn’t do too badly with whittling last night. You’re a fast learner.”

Emily caught herself staring again. Her host wasted no time in digging into breakfast, popping a bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth with a hum of approval. The muscle in her cheeks pinched, letting her know she was smiling at the woman like an idiot.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Kit sighed into another bite, her cheeks puffy like a squirrel storing up nuts for winter. “I think it’s even better than your morning cook’s - no offence to him, he makes a mean fried egg. Definitely better than the crime scene I made you yesterday.” 

Emily shifted on her stool, pushing her own eggs around the plate. She laughed, her chest warm. Of course her most loyal customer would love her food no matter where she ate it. The only difference was the intimacy. Being in Kit’s home had a different feel than at the diner where money got exchanged. Here, she made the food for her because she wanted to. “Thank you, though I don’t think some scrambled eggs compare to a perfectly fried egg.”

“But you add something extra to it-” Kit’s fork clinked as she set it down and Emily looked up from her food. Those brown eyes peered into her soul with a tenderness that she wasn’t used to seeing from another person. “You add love to it.”

Her words hung in the air for a while, both of them staring at each other with only the sound of Nutmeg scarfing down her food reminding them that the world didn’t freeze over. “Guess I do,” Emily cleared her throat, quickly shoving a forkful of eggs and a shard of bacon into her mouth. Kit ducked her head down and polished off the last piece of bacon on her plate. They both chuckled quietly. “It always makes me happy when other people enjoy my food. Like I’m actually doing something worthwhile.”

“Well… I’d say what you’re doing is worthwhile.” Kit crossed her arms, leaning forward on the bar. She smiled with her entire face. Brows high, cheeks dimpled and rosy. “Keeping your mama’s diner running even after everything that happened. Working until your fingers fall off. Not to mention keeping me company in the mornings before I go to work.”

Emily shifted in her seat, rubbing the back of her neck. She smiled sheepishly down at her food. That was the very reason she was itching to get back to work. So many folks in town relied on her for a hot breakfast. Mama’s things still needed to be boxed up at home, too. While staying with Kit quickly became a safe haven she didn’t think she should stay much longer if she could help it.

“You know,” Emily began, pushing her food around on her plate with the end of her fork. “I’ve really enjoyed staying with you. I know it hasn’t been too long, but I don’t think I would have done well on my own if you hadn’t come check up on me.”

“And I’ve enjoyed having you around.” A shy chuckle followed Kit’s words. Though she could barely bring herself to look at her, she lifted her face. Her host glanced up from her plate a couple of times, meeting her gaze. An auburn brow quirked.

“But I really think I should be getting back home soon, you know. Still got all that stuff to box up. I’ve still got a pile of dishes in the sink that needs washing.” Emily’s voice trailed off. If Kit was upset or keen on lecturing her about wearing herself out, she didn’t make it obvious. Only kindness painted her face. Instead of making her feel bad, though, the woman nodded and smiled.

“It’s alright. I’m just glad I was able to give you some time off, especially with the amount of snow that got dropped on us. Just know you’re always free to stay a little longer - if you’d like. I wasn’t kidding when I said we could have our own little Christmas.” Her dimples appeared, cheeks round and flushed. It was almost impossible to say no to a face like that.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll see how work goes tomorrow before I make my decision.” Emily picked up her fork again to finish off her breakfast. Her stomach continued to turn merely thinking about going back to that dark house on the culdesac. Work would be a welcome distraction for her, but nothing would stop that cold loneliness from seeping in once it was closing time.

“Say, I’m going to get started shoveling the front path so we don’t have to worry about it tomorrow when I take you to work.” Kit slipped out of her seat and took her plate to the sink. She rolled the cuffs of her flannel up her freckled arm so she could start on the dishes. “It’s just a little cold out there, so I’d be more comfortable if you waited here for a bit. That okay?” She looked over her shoulder at her and Emily’s heart fluttered. 

“Of course. Mind if I maybe make us dessert for later?” 

“I’d ask you to marry me on the spot.” Kit made a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort, her shoulders shaking as if a cold chill just ran through her. Pausing, she quickly dropped her head so Emily couldn’t see her face. “I mean - sure, everything in this kitchen is at your disposal.”

Emily wasn’t sure where to start or what to make first. There weren’t too many pie filling options in the fridge, though she figured she could use those bruised apples sitting in the fridge. Some spices if she could find some and… carrots?

-

With a heave and a grunt, Kit flung one last shovel full of snow into the snow bank she created on either side of the walkway in front of the cabin. Her lungs burned and her arms shook, the cold air like needles against her sweaty brow. After a good couple of hours, there was finally a path to get to her truck. Not that they’d need it that night, it would at least make getting Emily to work the next morning easier. 

Propping the shovel against the snow, Kit leaned an arm against the handle with a sigh and inspected her handiwork. The clouds overhead rolled by, sunlight finally shining through the frozen branches. She squinted, the snow hurting her eyes thanks to the brightness. Drawing them up along the path she created, she didn’t stop until they spied Emily’s figure on the other side of the checkered curtains in the kitchen. She drifted from the sink to the counter top, swaying and humming a faint tune. She wore an apron she dug out from the linen closet.

Suddenly the numbness in her cheeks and aching in her arms didn’t matter all that much. Emily’s blonde head picked up and she could fully see the ease and peace on her face when she smiled. The kind of smile Kit hadn’t seen on her for a while. She waved at her through the window, beckoning her in.

Not one to keep a lady waiting, Kit waddled through the packed snow and abandoned her shovel by the front door. She knocked off as much frost from her boots as possible before slipping inside. Warmth enveloped her, easing the stinging in her lungs with each breath. Her backside pressed against the wall to balance herself as she tore off her wet boots. Whatever Emily made, it smelled of sugar, nutmeg and a hint of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Absolutely decadent.

“Something smells good in here,” she chirped, pulling her coat off and padding into the kitchen. Emily stood behind the bar at the oven. Flour littered the counters as well as a myriad of used cooking supplies. A splash of it speckled her rosy cheek, too. She absolutely beamed, holding a knife in one hand and a silver pie spatula in her other.

“I know how you like your pie warm and after all that work you deserve a treat.”

A beautiful golden crust adorned the piping hot pie sitting on the stovetop. Steam rose from the heart shaped slits Emily carved into its face. Its filling oozed and bubbled between the seams. The braided edges looked just crisp enough to dip in milk when Kit was finished devouring the rest. “What kind is it?” Her tongue unconsciously dragged along her lips as the knife pierced the crisp crust.

“Well I tried something new-” Emily stuck just the end of her tongue out in concentration, brows furrowed. The knife slid through the pie with ease, only needing a gentle hand to not shatter the crust. “Apples and carrots. Thought it would taste a bit like carrot cake, so you’ll have to tell me how it is.” She lifted a perfect slice out of the dish. The carrots added a strange orange tinge to the filling. That odd scent grew stronger, mingling with the sugar and apples.

Even still, Kit waited like a giddy child to be handed a fork and her plate. Emily rested her chin on her hands, leaning on the counter with an expectant smile. The fork pierced the end of her slice. Kit’s mouth watered. She didn’t waste any time popping the bite into her mouth. Not even caring if it scalded her tongue. The first flavor that hit her. Delicious, tangy apples. The second?

“Oh god-” Kit covered her mouth with a cold hand. A horrid chill ran down her spine. Her stomach said yes to the sugar and apples, but her brain screamed for her to stop chewing. Whatever the spice was, it sure as hell wasn’t cinnamon. In fact, to her horror, it tasted like old tacos got spilled into an apple pie. Sweetened, autumn spiced tacos. Emily’s face fell and she looked down at her pie as if it slapped her in the face.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” she asked, grabbing a fork for herself and taking a bite. Unlike Kit, who powered through and swallowed her bite, she gagged and ran for the sink. “What is that? I thought I put cinnamon in it!”

The unsavory flavor burned Kit’s nose and tainted her mouth. She didn’t utter a single disapproving word as she hurried to the collection of spices Emily set beside her tools. There, in an ancient cinnamon bottle, was the taco seasoning she poured in ages ago for safe keeping. Safe keeping her ass. “This is my fault,” she snorted, smacking her lips in a failed attempt to get the taste of taco apples out of her mouth. “But… it’s not… that bad.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s bad?” Emily laughed in feign horror between gulps of water. “Eat the whole slice then.” 

Kit perked up at the challenge. Emily was smiling at her from behind her glass of water, not at all serious, but growing up with two brothers taught her two things. 1. Never offer an Acker a challenge and 2. She wasn’t a quitter. Even if a limb got broken, if she or her brothers were challenged, they were dead set on following through. 

“If you say so.” And with that, she circled back around to her slice of pie and picked up her fork. “I’ll prove it to you. But you owe me another pie in the future.”

“Kit, you really don’t have to-” Emily began to protest. She opened the fridge and pulled out the gallon of milk. When she turned around, Kit took the biggest bite she could manage. The horror that washed over the other woman’s face nearly made her choke. “Kit no!”

“See? It’s alright.” The food in her cheeks muffled her words. She chewed ravenously until she could swallow the cursed concoction. Emily rushed up with a glass, milk sloshing and spilling droplets along the flour dusted countertops.. Kit reached out to steady the glass, gingerly taking it from her and chugging it to chase the flavor. Not even that could save her mouth from what she just did. She turned a milk mustache smirk to the woman, realizing just how close they were standing together. She silently relished the way Emily doted on her. No one really did that for her. “Went down just fine, but-” She set the glass down and raised a hand to Emily’s cheek. Cold fingertips brushed her warm skin, her thumb wiping away the flour. “Maybe the next one will be better.”

Emily blinked rapidly, color blooming in her cheekbones. “Oh… I made quite the mess didn’t I?” she laughed. Kit tried to think of a way to tease her about it, but she got lost in her wide emerald eyes. Just for a moment. The silence that followed felt like it lasted ages before she cleared her throat and picked up a fork with a goofy smile.

“Think I can finish another slice?”

“You’re just a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

-

Emily savored her last evening off before going back to work. She tested out a dog treat recipe for Nutmeg which didn’t fail as badly as the apple taco pie. Both she and Kit drifted in an out of the kitchen for meals and snacks, keeping themselves busy while a light snow fell outside. A task that came easily for them. The two spoke and teased one another as naturally as best friends or an old married couple. So much so that at times the silly Hallmark Christmas movies playing in the background never captured their attention.. 

In the warmth and safety of the cabin, she could find peace. Just for a little while.

After a hearty meal and sharing the chore of dishes and wiping down counters, Emily curled up on the couch. She nursed a mug of cocoa spiked with something with a little something extra to her chest, lazily watching the city girl fall in love with the small town doctor on TV. The horrid couch dug into her lower back and shoulders. If it made her sore just to sit on it, she worried what it was doing to her host’s back.

“Atta girl,” Kit hollered, egging Nutmeg on from her spot in the kitchen. The dog had a battered Santa toy in her jaw. One of his arms waved at Emily in a silent plea for help, holding on by a few threads to the rest of her body. She threw the toy down, using her short front paws to squeak it with a playful snarl.

“Poor santa.” Emily giggled against her mug. The sweet chocolate washed over her tongue and warmth spilled into her veins. Kit came back to the living room, pushing the sleeves of her thermal shirt down. She had taken the liberty of finishing the rest of the cleaning so she could rest. Digging in the pocket of her joggers, she pulled out the hunk of wood she had been chipping at and her whittling knife. 

“I’ll probably have to get her another toy before Christmas. She tears through those cloth ones like it’s her job.” The couch creaked and Kit sighed as she plopped down beside her. Their legs touched and it sent Emily’s heart jumping into her throat

“She’s a very hard worker. If she had thumbs, she would make a perfect addition to the diner.”

“I think she has the temperament of a logger,” Kit smirked, leaning to rest her elbows against her knees. Emily watched her turn the wood around in her thicker fingers, trying to predict what she would carve out of it.

Kit’s busted phone lit up between, a default tune trilling. It sounded like it would give out at any moment if it received another text. She set the wood down on her arm of the couch and reached over to answer. It took a few swipes to get it right, the cracked screen not helping at all. She set it to speaker and went back to her work. The reception crackled for a second before a warm, friendly voice piped up on the other end of the line.

_“Kit?”_

“Hi, mom,” Kit greeted. The knife came millimeters from slicing her thumb. Emily winced. “How’s it going?”

_“Oh same old, same old. What are you doing? Are you staying warm?”_ So that’s where Kit got it from. Amused, Emily sat back and turned the TV down. Getting up and leaving to let them have their conversation in private tempted her, but Kit gave her a reassuring wave when she pointed to the bedroom door to silently ask if she needed to step out.

“Plenty warm, Mom, I promise. Shoveled a bit and tried a new pie Emily made earlier. I think plain apple is still my favorite.” She winked at her. 

_“Emily? Is that your lady friend? The one who works at the diner”_ Her mother’s pressing sent a wave of panic across Kit’s face. She froze on the spot and turned redder than Rudolph’s nose. Emily averted her eyes, butterflies dancing in her stomach. Her chest tightened as she tried not to giggle. _“Why didn’t you tell me? Is she cute? Have you two kiss-”_

“Mom! You’re on speaker!” 

_“Is she there with you now? Hello, Emily! I hope my daughter is being a gentlewoman and treating you well!”_ The wood in Kit’s hand fumbled, nearly falling into the shoebox full of shavings. She groaned, covering her face with a forearm.

“Hello, Mrs. Acker.” Emily’s cocoa teetered in her cup, her hand shaking with her attempts at holding back a bark of laughter. “Yes, your daughter is being an absolute darling to me. I’m grateful she offered to let me stay for a little, the snow really piled up the other night. I think Kit’s enjoyed my baking experiments.”

_“How wonderful! How long have you two been dating?”_

“Mom, mom, mom, it’s not like that-” Quick as lightning, Kit snatched the phone up and held it to her ear. Concern lined her face and a crease appeared between auburn brows. “Emily’s a good friend. Okay? I’ll call you tomorrow, I gotta go.”

_“Aww okay, I bet you two are very busy. I won’t keep you. Love ya, kiddo. Sweet dreams!”_

“Love you, too, mom. G’night.”

As soon as she hung up the phone, Kit leaned back against the couch and covered her face with her hands. She groaned. The tips of her ears turned bright red and the phone fell useless in the small space between them.. Emily’s humor about the situation wilted. Sure, her mom embarrassed her a bit, but she didn’t quite understand what was making her so uneasy. Setting her mug aside, she hesitated before reaching out and touching her shoulder. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that.” Kit shook her head, refusing to look up. “And I’m sorry if… this makes you uncomfortable now. Knowing about me and all.”

“Uncomfortable?” Confused, Emily looked around the room as if she would find something embarrassing sitting out in the open. A silly childhood picture or maybe even a pair of underwear. Something worthy of the shame that rolled off the other woman in waves. “I don’t understand. I feel like I know you pretty well, and I haven’t run for the hills yet.”

“But did you know I was gay?” Kit’s hands fell from her face and she looked to Emily as if waiting to be berated or made fun of. Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I mean-” she motioned to her outfit. “I don’t exactly hide it but… I understand if you think I lied to you.”

Emily didn’t respond right away although it clicked in her head why she was so adamant about hanging up on her mom. From the very beginning when they first met, she could spot it from a mile away. It wasn’t exactly hard to tell Kit was gay, both from the way she carried herself and the way she treated her with such kindness and chivalry. 

“I came out to my family when I was 18,” Kit continued, her fingers wringing together and knee bouncing. “I was scared shitless, not gonna lie. I had spent most of my life letting mom stuff me into skirts and asking if I had a boyfriend any time I made friends with other kids from school. I thought, because of her church and all, that they would hate me. That I would get kicked out.”

“But they didn’t.” The color in her cheeks drained into her neck and she shifted into a comfortable position slumped over her lap. She chuckled. “In fact, they were thrilled I was exploring who I was. Maybe my brothers were a little weirded out, but my mom was elated. She went from avoiding questions about boys at school to encouraging me to ask the cute girl in my geometry class to prom.”

Emily studied Kit, trying to imagine her as a pimple faced teenager. Did she wear flannels even back then? What did this geometry girl look like? Questions she would save for later as Kit settled back against the couch. Some of the tension loosened in her shoulders when Emily didn’t start chastising her or belittling her for what she was.

“It’s wonderful they supported you like that. But what got you so worked up, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Kit’s brows raised and she shot Emily a sheepish half smile. She stammered a bit, looking her up and down. “I was worried you would think I was trying to… you know-” she gestured broadly between the both of them. “Make something happen between us.”

“Oh.” Emily’s face burned hot and the hand at Kit’s shoulder froze. Of course Kit would be worried about that. It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. No, in fact she had ran several scenarios through her head while waiting for her to show up for breakfast at work. Imagining what it would be like to be wrapped up in her strong arms. Or decorating a place of their own. Childish daydreams, she knew. From the sound of it, she couldn’t tell if Kit even thought of her that way. “Oh.”

“Yeah..”

“Well I didn’t think that at all, for the record. That this was all a rouse to woo me.” Emily left Kit’s shoulder alone, dropping it to the couch cushion just inches from hers. “You’re sleeping on this awful thing for god’s sake.” The two of them shared a small laugh, breaking the awkward tension dangling in the air.

“I just know how it must look for a woman who looks like me-” Kit touched her chest, unintentionally guiding Emily’s gaze there. “Inviting a straight gal like you-”

“Straight?” Emily snorted, quickly covering her nose. It was her turn to look away. Her heart hammered behind her chest - it always did when Kit looked at her for too long. When any woman looked at her, really. “I wouldn’t necessarily call myself that.”

When Kit didn’t answer, she lifted her eyes. The look painted on her face was nothing short of hilarious. Wide eyed and absolutely dumbfounded at the revelation, her red thermal paled in comparison to the color of her face. “Well- I mean…” she stumbled over herself trying to find the right thing to say. Emily’s abdomen knotted up into a tight cinnamon roll. “I’m sorry, I just assumed-”

“It’s fine.” Without meaning to, their pinkies brushed one another and she pulled her hand away to grab her hot cocoa. Anything to ground herself. “I’m not exactly ‘out’ per se. I haven’t even been on a proper date with a woman, let alone anyone.” Well, that was a half truth. Ice skating with Kit was the closest thing to a date she’d ever been on. “My mama didn’t even know. No one really suspects it because I’m always in my work uniform or just like any other girl in town.”

Even if she did have the time to be on social media and see what kinds of trends were in or out, Emily doubted she would even partake in it. She didn’t mind the way she dressed. Especially when she got compliments from her favorite customer. 

“Huh.” She sensed at least a dozen questions hanging by a thread on Kit’s tongue. If she was at anyone else’s home, she would have hesitated to answer, but with her she was an open book. “Well, at least I got someone else to talk to about these things. Nutmeg gets tired of hearing me talk.”

From the armchair, Nutmeg perked up and gave Emily an exasperated sigh. 

“Seems so.” Emily grinned, finding the courage to look Kit in the eye. “It’s nice having someone to talk to. Though Nutmeg’s a pretty good listener, aren’t you, girl?” The pup huffed and ducked her head back down against her santa toy.

“I think this is the part where she meets the ghost from the doctor’s past,” Kit piped up, quickly changing the subject with a laugh. She turned the tv up, and dropped her hand between them again. Their pinkies touched. Emily hoped the silly butterflies in her stomach would stop attacking her with each tiny touch. It only got worse the more time they spent together and it would be a lie for her to say she didn’t like it


	6. A Christmas Of Our Own

By the time the next morning came around, the two women worked like a well oiled machine. Emily adorned her freshly laundered work uniform, weaving between Kit as they shared the small cabin bathroom. While she brushed her teeth, she reached over and fluffed the back of her short auburn locks and straightened the color of her thick flannel shirt. Even in silence, they were comfortable. If they both had a passion for the same career, they would make a hell of team - at least Emily thought so.

Even still, despite the comfort and mutual happiness they shared, a war waged within her. For the majority of the night she laid in Kit’s bed contemplating whether or not she should take her up on her offer to stay a little longer. It would be nice to come home to a warm smile. Or even share their ride to work. After their conversation the night before, she couldn’t exactly see a downside. 

Standing at the top of the path outside the cabin, sneakers dug firmly into the packed snow, she stared at a red bird sitting on a branch overlooking Kit’s car. Could there be more to their relationship? A possible future together? With no experience of her own to go off, she didn’t even know if she should press the matter. Would Mama have been happy if she found someone she enjoyed spending so much time around?

The red bird trilled a musical tune, flitting to another bare branch across the front yard. Emily followed it with her eyes as if waiting for it to answer her silent questions. The bird looked at her for a moment before ruffling its own feathers and darting off into a thicket of pine trees.

“C’mon, slowpoke,” Kit teased, looping her arm around her waist. “Can’t keep those hungry customers waiting.” Emily slipped along the packed snow, grateful for the hold on her. Even if it made her queasy. The cold air tore at her mostly bare legs and they reached the car without incident thanks to Kit’s steady feet. She opened the door for Emily, waiting until she was inside before closing it behind her and circling around to the driver’s side.

“You’re coming for dinner tonight, right?” Emily asked, fiddling with her purse and double checking she had her work keys. Despite being a bundle of nerves, knowing she had the evening to look forward to with Kit made all the difference.

“Sure am. I’ll help you dig your car out of the snow too.” She watched a smile curl into her freckled cheeks. Had the morning light always made her auburn hair shimmer like starlight? 

“And I can change my mind, right? About going back home?” She still needed to talk to Mr. Matthews about putting their arrangement on hold. With the holiday fast approaching she doubted he would mind much, but yet the worry still lingered in the back of her mind like a swath of storm clouds on the horizon. A gloved hand reached past the console and touched her knee. Kit gave it the smallest of squeezes. It sent a thrill up her spine. For a split second she forgot what she was worrying about.

“‘Course you can, doll. You can call me anytime.”

“Good, good. I just wanted to make sure.” Emily huddled inside the warm shell of the old jacket Kit let her borrow. She watched the tree pass on their way to the diner. The roads were a bit tricky but their conversation drifted to happier things like pie and dinner.

It didn’t take long before they came around the bend and spied the tin building covered in a heavy blanket of snow. A small crowd of about four gathered by the front door, huddled together like penguins under the awning. A figure that she could make out as her morning cook pressed his face against the window and peered inside. Most mornings, since she slept there, the place would up and running well before opening. 

Eyes followed the little red Chevy sputtering its way through the slick parking lot. Kit pulled up as close to the ramp as possible, her wheels hugging the curb. It groaned when she parked it. She reached out to Emily before she could leave. Her hand settled on the back of her hand, sending her heart leaping out of her chest. 

“I can go with you tonight, too, if you want me to,” she assured her. She lifted dark eyes to the handful of customers waiting, quickly removing her hand to wave at them.

“That you, Kit?” Mr. Matthews called. His smile was just as cheerful as ever. His white beard had been neatly trimmed, most likely to play Santa for his local church. “You comin’ in for breakfast?”

“No, I’m good! Emily made me breakfast earlier!” Though her comment was innocent, it didn’t stop the old man from raising his bushy brows and eyeing the two women. Emily shyly waved at Kit and slipped out of the truck. Mr. Jo offered a small departing wave to the truck as it drove off. Mr. Matthews had his hands on his hips like a playfully stern father. “She got ya trapped as her personal chef now, huh?”

“Are you staying with her, Ms. Emily? Ms. Acker’s a nice lady. Is she treating you right?” The typically quiet Mr. Jo asked, moving away from the door to let her through. The deep lines around his mouth creased.

“It’s not like that.” A strained laugh passed her lips. Her keys rattled, the lock for the front door needed a good jiggle thanks to the snow and ice. The door swung open to the diner exactly as she left it three days ago. Her customers filed in behind her, scraping off their boots with content sighs. “Now everyone get settled, we’ll get the grill fired up.” Just like clockwork, she jumped into action. After being closed for the longest stent of her life, she had plenty to get done. Plenty to take her mind off what was to come that evening.

-

“Got any work done on the house?” Mr. Matthews asked once Emily finished taking her 10th Christmas pie order of the day. She let out a puff of air, finally catching her breath after the 8 AM rush. Her stomach became a batch of cinnamon twists. Hands worked methodically, packing Mr. Matthews blackberry pie order to go so he and his wife could have dessert that night. 

“Can’t say that I have.” The neatly packaged pie slid over to him and she picked up her damp rag to idly tidy up her work surface. Flour clumped, falling into the wastebasket she kept beneath her station. Beside it sat a beat up pink stool that her child self littered with scratched up stickers. It was her favorite spot in the diner - working beside her mother and learning how to make sure the pies looked just right in the case. Her lips tightened. “It’s been hard, Mr. Matthews. It’s hard looking at her things laying around.”

“Is that why you’ve been staying with Miss Kit Acker?” Being spared any grief or disappointment from the man was enough of a gift on its own. Heat flooded her face and she looked up at him like a reindeer caught in Christmas lights. His eyes twinkled.

“Guess you could say that.” Emily smiled, her voice a shy hum. “Can’t lie, I’ve actually been enjoying sleeping somewhere comfortable.” Matthews pulled on his thick winter coat and reached over the counter to pat her arm.

“I’m just glad you’ve got someone you can go to, kiddo. Take your time on the house, you hear? There’s no rush.” He gestured to the pre-order list for Christmas pies. “B’sides, it looks like you’ve got lots to keep you busy the rest of the month. My leg’s gone funny, but I’ll try to come up to the house when the snow dies down and help.”

“You’re more than generous, Mr. Matthews, I don’t know how I could ever thank you-” Emily’s heart drummed behind her ribs. She would’ve cried if it weren’t for the few customers still enjoying their breakfast. The old man simply smiled at her and tipped his torn up cap.

“Just take your time, Ms. Emily, it’ll be alright. You’ve still got some healin’ to do.” With that, he turned with his pie in hand and hobbled towards the door. They waved to each other, a sense of normalcy returning to ward off the emotion stirring in her chest.

“Miss?” A soft voice called from the corner booth. Emily turned her attention to the voice and spied a customer she didn’t notice right away. A woman in her late thirties whose looks punched her in the gut. She looked just like her mother. At least at first. The beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the white-blonde hair pulled away from her face and dazzling green eyes. Across the table from her sat a little girl who looked like she could be her mini-me. 

“What can I get you?” Emily chimed, swallowing her shock and replacing it with her customer service smile. She made her way over with a couple of snowflake printed placemats and menus. Up close, she didn’t recognize them from town. The little girl beamed up at her, little legs dancing over the edge of the booth seat. She smiled back. “Can I start you off with breakfast or lunch?”

“The gentleman at the grocery in town recommended your pie,” The mother began, flipping through the short menu to find the list. “Said it’s the best in town.”

“Was it Peter Jo by chance? Short older man, graying hair, kinda quiet and reserved?”

“That’s the one.” Folks coming in and out of Greenwood enjoyed how quaint small town living could be. Never having to think about the fact that the nearest mall was miles away nor how everyone knew everybody’s business. But that’s why most of them came. “Tell me, is Dana working by chance?”

“Oh no.” Emily’s heart sank, but she tried to maintain a pristine smile. She lowered her pad, resting it against her chest where her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. “Dana was my mother. I started managing this place when she got sick and… unfortunately she’s passed. Did you know her?”

The woman’s face fell, eyes drooping. The little girl looked between them, not fully understanding the weight of losing someone so close to her. Especially not a mother. For all Emily knew, the little girl probably thought she was a mother herself due to her age. “I’m sorry to hear that, I didn’t know. I-” She hesitated, tucking a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “I think I knew a Dana from when I was younger. One who liked cooking more than anything in the world.” The smile she offered her was thin and stretched across her face like a crack on a frozen lake.

“It’s okay.” Emily sucked in a deep breath and offered a kind smile despite how terrible the ache in her chest felt. “I’m trying my best to keep her memory alive. She’s lived here all my life, but I’m not too sure when she might have moved here. She taught me everything she knew. In fact-” she asked permission to turn her menu over and scrolled an index finger down the list of pies until she came to a chess pie. “This was my mother’s favorite. Would you like to try it?”

“Can we get extra whipped cream, mama?” The little girl piped up, clapping her hands.

“That sounds wonderful, thank you so much” She winked at Emily. ”With extra whipped cream, please.” Her daughter cheered, throwing her hands up in the air and bouncing until the old booth squeaked. Before Emily could turn away, the woman reached out to her. “Ah, I’m sorry this is an odd question, but how old are you?”

Emily swallowed, her breath hitching in her throat as the beginning of a sob dared the crawl out of her chest. An odd question indeed. “24, I was born in April.”

“24,” the woman breathed, her eyes glazing over as she no doubt chewed on the number. For whatever reason. Seeing as she had enough to keep her mind at bay, she scribbled down their order and quickly turned.

As soon as she left the table, Emily’s eyes began to burn. Her heart felt like it would be ripped in two if she spent another second thinking about her mother. Seeing the two strangers threw salt in the deepest wounds within her. She went to the back to find the chess pie in the prep fridge, pushing all of it from her mind. Even the strange questions.

She wanted to box it up and store it neatly in the depths of her mind so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. She worked methodically, cutting a precise slice and plating it on a porcelain dish. One dollop of whipped cream, then another. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, tearing her away from her work. She pulled it out to see who it was from. 

_‘I’m on my way :) :) :) :)’_

Emily laughed quietly, staring at Kit’s name at the top of the screen. Her vision went blurry. She touched her face and realized she had been crying the whole time. At least she had someone she could go home with. Someone who was quickly becoming a best friend to her, who knew how to make her laugh and knew when she needed to be held.

With the confidence of knowing her favorite customer would be in soon, Emily rinsed her face and perked up to greet the mother and daughter and present them their slice of pie.

-

Kit’s back throbbed. She doubted a single trip to the chiropractor would fix the damage she acquired from sleeping on the couch. To her, it was a small price to pay for helping Emily out. Just knowing she wasn’t sleeping on a sack of potatoes or home crying was enough to numb her aches and pains. 

Ding ding.

The diner welcomed her like a warm hug from an old friend. It was sparse, only a couple of guests occupying the booths. The scent of bacon and eggs lingered in the air, but what hit her most prominently was the scent of cinnamon and sugar. Actual cinnamon and sugar. Sweeping her gaze from one side of the diner to the other, she finally laid eyes on Emily. And paused. The blue uniform hugged her in all the right ways. A myriad of spices and stains splattered her apron from a hard day’s work. Blonde hair was swept back in a bun with loose pieces falling around her neck and face.

Emily looked up at the sound of the door, arms filled with menus. Kit knew instantly something wasn’t right. Her big, soft eyes had a puffy pink ring around her lids. Even though she beamed at her, sorrow and pain lingered behind bloodshot eyes. Her voice rasped when she welcomed her.

“Working hard, have you?” Kit greeted, approaching the counter and gesturing to her cinnamon dusted apron. Emily deposited her menus and leaned against the counter on her hands. Smiling brighter than ever.

“Maybe just a little. I’ve got at least a dozen pie orders for Christmas already and we’re still a week and a half out.”

“Ah, so my scheme is working.” Kit folded her arms and leaned on the bar, mirroring her with the goofiest smile she could muster. “I blabber so much about you to the guys at work, I guess it’s finally paying off in pie orders.”

“You blabber… about me?” Emily raised a brow, her smiling ever growing as green eyes pierced her soul. Searching for something. For what, Kit didn’t know.

“Well, I mean, yeah why wouldn’t I?” Shrugging, she turned a few pages in her menu to busy herself. Not that she needed to, she was keen on having her favorite dinner: chicken fried steak with some greens on the side. “Besides, I work with a buncha men. I kind of like rubbing it in a little that I had a pretty gal staying with me.” 

Was she flirting? Why was she flirting with Emily? It was the last thing she wanted to do, especially after assuring her that she didn’t invite her to live with her for a while to trap her. They were friends. Great friends. Best friends, even. But her comments seemed to have been well received as Emily’s laugh warmed the diner. She spied color blooming in her cheeks before she turned away.

“That’s all I’m good for? My pie and my looks?” She went to the back, appearing in the order window at the stove to get her dinner started.

“No, god no!” Kit covered her face, horrified that she even said that to her. It was true, she had talked a lot about Emily - as a friend - to the guys at work. Most of them had a nasty habit of talking about their girlfriends and wives as if they were burdened by being in a relationship with them. She wanted to make sure that they, especially Bill, heard how she gushed about Emily and would learn from her example. If she didn’t blow it and push her away by flirting with her, that is.

“Kit-” Emily’s voice beckoned her, giving her enough bravery to look up from her hands. Her rosy lips twisted in a grin. “I’m teasing you.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, I swear. Either from another surprise taco pie or teasing me to death.”

It wasn’t long before the diner cleared out, leaving the two of them alone. Just like Thanksgiving day. Kit ate her dinner gratefully, chowing down like a starving dog. She stole glances at Emily while she cleaned up, happy to hear her humming along to Dolly and swaying. Whatever had upset her earlier didn’t seem to bother her, but knowing the woman as well as she did now she doubted it was completely gone from her mind. 

Kit scraped what little remained on her plate into the last garbage bag and took the liberty of going behind the counter to wash her own dish so Emily wouldn’t have to. While she swept, she took the trash out and checked to make sure the security system ran up to par. Together, they worked like a well oiled machine just like they did at home. When it came time to leave, Kit waited for her to lock the door before guiding her down the ramp with a gentle hand.

“Kit..?” Emily piped up, pausing at the edge of the parking lot. She gave Kit’s arm a tight squeeze, pulling her to a stop. That sullen look returned and her mouth bent into a frown. “You weren’t kidding right? About changing my mind?”

Concern took hold and Kit took a step closer to her in an attempt to block the wind that whipped around the building. Without thinking, she reached out and held her by the elbows. She studied her wet eyes. “What’s the matter? Thought you would be tired of smelling like me all the time.”

“I just don’t think I can do it.” Her head ducked into the logging jacket like a turtle thinking about hiding in its shell. Fresh tears glistened in her eyes, catching the light of the single streetlight. “I’m going to cry going inside… I won’t know what to do with myself, or what to do, or-” her voice grew shrill and cracked until a sob wracked through her throat.

“Hey, hey.” Kit drew her in, taking the liberty of tucking her own arms into the jacket so she could loop them around her middle. Their shared warmth helped ward off the sharp air. Seeing her so upset nearly made her sick. Emily leaned her head in, resting it on her shoulder. “Listen… there’s no pressure, ‘kay? You’re free to stay as long as you need. You’ve got your work uniform and you can borrow anything in my closet. But… I know there’s some things you need. You won’t be alone.” She pressed close until their bodies were touching. She reveled in the woman’s warmth and ran her hands up and down her back. “If you feel up to it, I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll even blind fold you if you want.”

Warm air washed over Kit’s neck with a soft giggle from Emily. She sniffled and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Her mind instantly imagined what it would be like to hold her on a warm, comfortable bed. To simply be there for her so she could rest easy. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she reminded herself that she needed to be a rock for her in the present. 

“Okay,” Emily said at last, pulling her wet face away from her shoulder. “It would be nice to wear some of my clothes for a change. Even though I might borrow one of your flannels from time to time.”

Kit pulled away slowly, the cold striking her yet again. “You can even steal them after the holidays, I probably wouldn’t notice them missing.” Joy blossomed in her stomach. More time with Emily meant they could share a real Christmas together. No dinky tree to be left undecorated. Sure, her back could use a break, but to have her cabin filled with Emily’s warmth and laughter was more than enough. “We’ll have our own Christmas together. It’ll be fun.” Emily nodded, flashing a toothy smile.

“I think I’d like that.”


	7. Someone To Lean On

The blue bug trudged through the slick, muddy streets. The town’s efforts to plow the roads worked for the most part. Dirty snow piled up on either side of the road the slush covering the asphalt didn’t scare her. Emily turned down her street and slowed at the end of the cul de sac. The neighbor’s houses were lit up, cheerful string lights lined their roofs and decorated trees greeted passersby from their windows. Headlights flashed in her rearview mirror. If Kit wasn’t there, she didn’t know what she would do with herself.

The bungalow sat as a shell of her former life. A life where Emily’s only worries pertained to schoolwork and helping her Mama with dishes at the diner. Where pocket change and sticks of gum were the only currency she had to keep track of. No paper snowflakes decorated the window and no tree sat in the living room waiting to brighten her evening with colorful lights. And Mama wouldn’t be there - not in the kitchen baking cookies nor in her bed coughing up blood.

Bile rose in Emily’s throat. The sputtering of the chevy behind her ceased and Kit closed the door with a firm slam. She watched her extract a shovel from the bed of the truck and quickly got out to join her. There wasn’t much she could say in the moment. She knew if she opened her mouth she would simply burst into a fit of tears the same way she did when she skinned her knee on the sidewalk outside the house. Kit wouldn’t let her help shovel even when she asked, insisting her uniform would make her freeze to death.

Staring at the dark entryway, Emily just knew everything would have a fine layer of dust. The Tupperware in the sink would probably have to be thrown away just so she wouldn’t have to deal with the old spaghetti she left in it. The floors needed mopping, too.

Kit didn’t push anything. She waited for the okay to shovel out a small path to the steps. Emily noticed how she rubbed her lower back after each haul of snow. A pang of guilt pinched at her chest. No matter how much of a fuss her host made, she was keen on taking the couch that night. She deserved a comfortable bed to lay in when they got home.

Home. Something Emily never thought she’d say about another woman’s cabin. 

“Ready?” Kit asked, coming up beside her. A light dusting of snow covered her beanie and piled on her nose. Emily blinked back tears and reached out to brush it off. Brown eyes widened and lips parted in surprise. Her expression got a small chuckle out of her.

“Let’s do this.”

The scent of dust and mothballs hit Emily as soon as she turned the brass doorknob. It creaked, the door struggling to open after not being opened in days. Everything was exactly where she left it. A busted loveseat with a floral pattern faced the boxy television she grew up watching, both of which the Matthews were going to give her a small amount of change for so she wouldn’t have to haul it upstairs to the apartment. Her mother’s old rocking chair sat by the window with her wooden sewing kit still in its seat and a handmade crochet shawl thrown over the back. Darkness loomed over the corner where boxes of odds and ends sat next to a pile of newspaper to wrap delicates in.

Behind her, Kit flicked on the lights and the ceiling fan buzzed to life. Memories from Emily’s childhood were etched into the very walls of the house. By the kitchen, carved into the white paint of the entryway, markings indicating birthdays and Emily’s height were left in Mama’s handwriting. It stopped at 21. She remembered the squabble she and her mother got into about how she had outgrown the tradition, given how she stopped growing after age 16. But her mother insisted and she went along with it just to make her happy. She didn’t know it would be the last year her mother would be able to live a normal life.

They passed by the tiny breakfast nook made up of an old 70’s diner table and mismatched seating for two. Dead daisies hung over the edge of the skinny cobalt glass vase they resided in. Partially filled cardboard boxes littered the space between the dining area and living room, forcing them to follow a snaking path through them. Even more boxes laid folded up against the wall. Emily clicked on the lights for the long skinny hallway, checking over her shoulder to make sure she was being followed. Kit offered her a reassuring smile and nod. She reached out, inviting her to hold her hand to which she gratefully took with a sigh. 

Emily proceeded, slow and robotic. Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Framed pictures of her and her mother decorated the halls. Young, bright faces smiled back at her, frozen in time. They passed the old pink tiled bathroom, her things haphazardly scattered on top of the counter. 

Then the first bedroom. Her mother’s hospice bed on full display, looming in the darkness as a constant reminder of what happened. Most days, a sickly, gaunt face would be staring back at her when she got back from work. Even after Mama died, she could still picture her bundled in blankets and hooked up to a machine that helped her breathe. The same way she pictured her then while standing in the hallway with Kit.

Everything had remained the same since the day she died, save for some moving boxes that had yet to be set up. A dozen bouquets of dried flowers littered the dresser. Numerous cards with smiling dogs and silly cartoons cheered for her mother on her recovery journey. The rest of the cards offered Emily their condolences. 

The people who her mother made friends with, most of whom were regulars in the diner, had all flocked around the tiny family in their time of need. Mr. Matthews and his wife came by often with foil wrapped food and enough jokes to tire Mama out before the sun went down. Mr. Jo would drop off bread and other baked goods from the discount rack at his grocery. Although grateful for the food during those times, Emily’s stomach turned at the idea of eating another tuna noodle casserole. She would probably never not think of her mother eating it.

A hand slipped up Emily’s arm, sending her crashing back down to earth. Her knees wobbled. The hand stopped on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Need anything in there?” Kit asked quietly, her voice so soft yet it filled every empty space in her head. Emily shook her head and watched as she took the liberty of closing the door so they wouldn’t have to see it. “It’s alright. I got you.” Her strong arm circled her shoulders, pulling her into a lingering hug that she absolutely needed. “This one’s your room?”

They stepped into the room next door to her mother’s, a tiny bedroom with light blue walls and ancient movie posters tacked over her creaky bed. The Sound of Music, Phantom of the Opera and even Twilight much to her dismay. Emily turned the lights on and Kit laughed. The sound brightened the room. “It’s cute. Just like I imagined it would be.”

“First you’re gossiping about me to the guys at work and now you’re daydreaming about my room? You’re odd, Kit Acker.” Emily’s voice rasped. She laughed, swiping the sleeve of her jacket across her eyes to dry her tears. Even when her heart sat behind her ribs like a stone too heavy to hold up on her own, Kit found a way to help her carry the load.

A suitcase was procured from the depths of her closet. In all the years she owned it, Emily rarely used it to go on vacation. While she got started on folding the clothes she wanted to bring, Kit studied the little fragments of her personality that decorated her room. 

The little spelling bee trophies she won in elementary school stood by the two volleyball participation medals she kept because she liked the violet ribbon they dangled from. She watched from the corner of her eye as Kit ran a finger along the fraying crochet rabbit her mother made her one Christmas when they had very little money to spend on presents. Memory drifted to the special “Christmas sandwiches” her mother made with leftover food from the diner. How she assured her Santa wouldn’t mind if they left one for him since cookies didn’t make for a very healthy dinner.

“Were there any Christmas decorations you wanted to take with us?” Kit asked, eyes moving between the porcelain trinkets next to the rabbit and Emily. “I’m planning on getting us a pretty evergreen and all. I saw a few plastic tubs sitting in the corner of the living room, so I wasn’t sure if they had some lights or ornaments you like in them.”

“I forgot I put those in there.” Emily bit her lip, shoving a burgundy sweater where she could find room in her suitcase. Those last few days before her mother passed were frantic. Her mother requested for some decorations to be put up, just so she had something to look at while she was stuck in bed. “There’s that angel. You know those ones that sit on top of the tree?”

“You said it was your mom’s favorite thing to do - putting the angel on top.” Kit smiled at her. It warmed her soul. She remembered. 

“That’s the one. She’s in a box of her own, but we can take the two green tubs full of decorations, if you’d like.”

“Mind if I go see if I can find it?”

Would it hurt more to see it every day until Christmas? To be reminded every time she looked at it that her mother wasn’t there to put it on top of the tree herself? She rifled through her underwear drawer, thinking it over. 

“It would be a nice way to honor her… might make it a bit less sad to give it a new place to sit this year.”

“Sure. Take whatever else you think would look nice on a tree.” With Kit’s encouragement, Emily nodded and watched her leave. She pressed her face into her hands and let out a shaky breath. She was right and she knew it. Honoring her mother would help. The angel didn’t deserve being stashed away like something shameful or dirty. It took a moment for her to compose herself enough to go to the bathroom to collect her toiletries. Mama’s were tucked away in drawers and cabinets long before she was too sick to move, allowing her to pack without having to look at them.. 

“Hey, Emily, I’m loading one of these tubs up!” Kit called from the living room. 

“Alright!” She hollered back. 

At the very least, she wouldn’t be staying in the house for much longer. She had a warm home to go to. At least for now. Maybe once Christmas passed she would have the strength to take the next step and finish packing for good.

-

Kit paced around the living room in her pajamas and socks, arms wrapped around herself and the touch skin around her fingernails wedged between her front teeth. They had gotten back to the cabin without incident. Emily looked sick again and turned in after a much needed hot shower. Just like clockwork, Mom called for her bi-daily conversation and of course the first line of business was whether or not she would be home for Christmas.

_“If you come this year, maybe you could bring Emily? She sounds like a nice girl and from the way you talk about her-”_

“Mom, look, I don’t think I’m going to make it this year. You know how it is… “ That was always her excuse. It always got her out of having to talk about the reason she left. The other end of the line went quiet. A small crackle came through, impossible to tell if it was a sigh or a sniffle.

_“I just wish you’d come up… just for a little while. Rodney and Jude have been asking about you lately. And knowing Emily’s mother is gone… gosh that’s awful… “_

“Don’t bring her into this.” Kit’s voice lowered, coming off a bit harsher than she meant it to. Pausing, she silently reminded herself to not punish Mom for her own swelling emotions. She glanced at her bedroom door where Emily rested after a long, emotional day. She softened her words. “Please don’t bring her into this. She’s having a hard time right now.”

_“Is she having a hard time, Kit? Or are you?”_ Her mother’s voice wavered. Now Kit knew she was crying. Their conversation hit a wall, going silent for a short while. Guilt and frustration warred within her. She couldn’t understand why Mom couldn’t leave her be about coming to dinner. It made her feel like a stubborn teenager all over again.

“I’ve gotta go, Mom. I love you. I’ll… I’ll think about it.” She heard a small ‘I love you’ in return before the line went dead. Kit sighed, swiping her phone off and tossing it on her bed for the night. Nutmeg laid on the couch, nudging the phone sadly. She could sense the tension as well as any human. She smiled at her, lowering herself down until her makeshift bed creaked uncomfortably. Nutmeg rolled onto her side, eagerly accepting tummy scritches. “Hey, girl. I’m okay. Everything’s okay-”

“Kit..?” Emily’s voice shot through her like a volt of electricity. Kit jumped up, whirling around to spy her standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She wore her own pjs, silky blue shorts and an oversized gray sweater that hung off of her scrunched shoulders in an almost elegant way. The warm light of her bedside lamp turned her messy blonde hair into a golden halo circling her head. There was little time to process how… cute she looked before Kit noticed the look on her face; pale with pink rings around her eyes and a red nose from using so many tissues. Her lips were pale as drying rose petals. “Would you… could you… “ Her face crumpled, trying to figure out how to word her request.

“Need something to drink? Some coffee and pie, maybe?” Kit rose, rolling the plaid sleeves of her pjs up.

“No, not that.” Emily shook her head until a few loose strands of hair fell over her shoulder. “I… don’t want to be alone tonight. And I figured, since your back’s hurting and all, if you’d…” she shrugged, jutting her chin over her shoulder at the rumpled bed by the windows. “Join me?”

Join her? She wanted her… to join her?

“Like to talk?” Kit asked, at a loss for words. She just wanted to make sure she heard her correctly. It wasn’t often that a pretty woman asked her to share a bed with her - not even platonically.

“No, like to sleep.” Emily looked down at the floor, fiddling with her fingers and shifting between the living room and bedroom. “It was just an idea, there’s no press-”

“I’d love to.” The words flew from her mouth before Kit could think or even weigh the consequences. She scolded herself. Of course she would love to sleep in the same bed as her, she imagined it for a while, now. How it would feel to wrap an arm around her. To be that rock for her. A protector while she slept. How warm she would be against her. “I mean, of course. That sounds much better than sleeping on the couch tonight. I’m a little sore.”

A smile appeared and Emily stepped aside, pulling the door open a bit more. Nutmeg hopped up from her spot on the couch, running towards the bedroom with a whimper. Kit’s heart picked up, drumming inside her chest like she was about to go skydiving. She checked the locks at the front door and windows, turned out the lights and made her way into the bedroom after the pup. When the door shut behind her, she felt like she was at the climax of a romcom. 

“So… do you have a preferred side to sleep on?”

“Well.” Kit rubbed the back of her neck, her curls tickling her hand. It was nearly time for a trim. “Nutmeg kind of takes up the majority of the bed and I sleep around her.” The pup trotted in circles right in the middle of the bed, her tongue hanging out and her ears twitching with happiness. “C’mon, girly, you can’t take up the whole bed tonight. Emily needs room, too.” She snorted, moving to the bed to scoop the dog up and place her at the end of the bed.

Emily slipped in, crawling to the far end, closer to the windows. She curled up under the quilt, her bright eyes waiting patiently for Kit to join her. Suddenly, she felt like a teenager at her first sleepover all over again. That anxiety of sharing a bed with a girl. It felt silly being so worked up over it. They were both women. Sure, she found her attractive and appealing in every way possible - but would this awaken the very thing she was worried about?

Kit took her turn getting in. Taking her time. As timid as an elementary school student on Valentine’s day. Nutmeg huffed, curling up at their feet and watching them curiously. She reached back, turning the lamp off. Moonlight peered through the old checkered curtains. Emily still shined with her golden hair splayed behind her. When the two of them were finally relaxed and laying down, she shuffled closer - which wasn’t hard in a full sized bed.

Breath hitched in Kit’s throat. Their bodies weren’t flush together, but there was something wildly intoxicating about being so close to her. The scent of warm vanilla filled the space between them. A much welcome change to the Old Spice and plain Irish Spring that usually resided in her shower.

“Kit?”

Her heart leapt. “Hm?”

“Is everything okay? I heard you talking to your mom.” Emily left it at that, staring at her with wide eyes that reflected the pale moonlight slipping through the curtains. An ache struck Kit in the shoulders where she carried the majority of her stress. Letting out a slow sigh, she contemplated letting the woman into the swamp that was her mind. It was easier when they went ice skating - back then she considered her nothing but a friend. But there in the comfort of her bed, their legs brushing up against one another and her mouth so close to her she could feel the warm breath brush over her cheek.

“My mom really wants me to visit this year. She’s adamant my brothers want to see me, too which… doesn’t exactly sit right with me.” A soft noise emitted from the woman next to her, an understanding coo.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Emily began, her voice softer than fresh snow. “What happened between you and your brothers?”

Teeth dug into Kit’s bottom lip and she traced the pale light that followed the twist of blonde hair. She touched her finger against Emily’s soft hair. A small ghost of a touch. She didn’t pull away from her. “I told you about how they fired me from the company, right?” She nodded. “We fought that Christmas day. And I mean real fighting. First we were screaming at each other, then the name calling began. Jude dipped as soon as Rodney commented that he didn’t see me as a ‘woman’ if I was going to lug wood all day and not aspire to having kids someday.”

Kit took a deep breath, her chest tightening. Emily wiggled closer to her. One of her delicate hands touched the dip of her waist, her thumb tracing circles under the flannel pajamas she wore to bed. “Don’t know why he got so touchy about it all of a sudden. Not like Pops or Mom had any issues with me being gay and dressing the way I do. Maybe he thought he needed to be a father to me after Pops passed. But a woman doesn’t have to be a mother or be femnine to be a woman. Hell, A woman doesn’t even need to look like a woman to identify as a woman if she wanted to. People should just be comfortable in their own skin.”

“I hate that he told you something like that.” Emily’s voice was a soothing balm to her aching heart. “Especially since I like you like this. You’re… well, you. And that’s all you need to be.”

“Right.” Kit nodded, shivering under her touch. “And maybe that’s why I threw the first punch. To kinda prove myself, ya know?”

“You punched him?” Emily’s eyes widened though she didn’t look horrified as she would have guessed. Instead she almost seemed humored at the idea of the normally level-headed Kit Acker losing her shit on someone.

“I did,” She snorted, closing her eyes and burying as much of her face into her pillow as possible. It muffled her half laugh. Pulling her face back, she noticed a smile dancing on Emily’s face. “I mean, he deserved it. Though I’ll always feel awful for putting Mom through that. It’s one thing for siblings to fight when they’re little. But we’re adults so…”

“Did he hurt you?” That soft voice grew quieter. Pained at the idea that Kit getting maimed in the fist fight she started.

“I ran off with quite the shiner. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” The hand at her waist disappeared, crawling out from under the quilt to touch her cheek. Emily’s hands were so soft. She could smell the sweet lotion she put on after her shower. The pad of her index finger traced over the skin below her eye. Kit had to will herself to breathe. “I snuck back into the house while they were at Christmas service to grab my stuff and leave for good.”

“I can’t imagine seeing them would feel very good. Though, if you decide that you’re up for it then I’m proud of you for being the bigger person.”

“I’ll think about it.” Kit was all too aware of the soft skin still caressing her cheek. Emily didn’t seem as squeamish from the intimacy, though the dark made it hard to make out the delicate features of her face. Without knowing what came over her, she held her breath and tentatively draped an arm over her lithe body. The two wriggled until they were cuddled close. Her hand tangled itself in her vanilla scented hair. Craning her neck forward, she laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m just glad that you’re celebrating the holidays with me this year. I don’t think I’ve been this excited to decorate a tree in a while.”

Warm breath washed over her neck as Emily sighed. The hand on her cheek retreated back under the covers, gently grasping at her flannel pajama shirt. “You’ve saved me a lot of heartache, Kit. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“There’s nothing to repay, doll. Nothing at all. Though, I wouldn’t mind some Christmas cookies.” Kit could imagine the sweet, buttery taste of her sugar cookies. The melt in your mouth texture once you snap a bite off. The sugary sweet frosting. “We’ll need to pick out a tree, too.”

“I don’t think mama and I ever put up a real tree. You probably have a nice one picked out already, don’t you?”

“You know it.” Kit smiled down at the warm body cuddled close, fingers smoothing over her locks. “Now you should get some sleep before you start looking like a ghost.” Another round of warm breath tickled her neck, making the short hairs along her hairline stick straight up. God she was so close to her.

“G’night, Kit.”

“Night, Emily.”

It was uncertain how long Kit laid there with her arms wrapped around Emily. After finding a comfortable spot for her sore neck, she watched lazy clouds inch by the bright moon through the gaps of her curtains. Listening to her soft breath. Every small movement she made would pull her back down to earth, even if she simply moved a leg. Although she was tired, having another woman in her arms enthralled her. Perhaps things would move in a different direction with Emily. Something beyond just friendship.


	8. Angel

“How do you like this beauty!” Kit cheered, hopping out of her truck. A small, stout evergreen stuck out from the bed of the old Chevy. A delicate frost glittered on its lush green branches. Earlier in the day, she had left the cabin under the guise of having an errand to run, not letting on that she was going to be bringing home an entire tree. Emily stepped out on the walking path, arms wrapped around herself as she beamed at the proud lumberjane. She wore one of her flannels with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Light scrapes feathered her lightly freckled skin, no doubt from dragging a tree into the truck all by herself.

“You cut it down all by yourself?” Emily asked. She dug her converse into the packed snow, wiggling her legs in an attempt to keep warm. She hadn’t thought to put her sweats on over her pajama shorts. Kit pulled the tree out with ease, carrying it bridal style towards the cabin. The whole thing hid her from view with its stout frame.

“Sure did. I’ve got logging in my blood, baby.” She winked. Emily turned away to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. “Let’s get you back inside. You’re wearing shorts, silly.” 

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. I can’t remember the last time I had a real tree.”

“I promised you a real Christmas, didn’t I? It was no trouble at all!”

Shuffling in behind Kit, she helped where she could. She danced around the light snow they tracked in and shut the door fast enough to keep Nutmeg from zooming outside without one of her sweaters on. The little one yapped and hopped around her mother’s feet, nipping at the ice on a lower branch.

“Nutmeg, careful! I don’t wanna step on you.” Kit moved to the center of the room and squatted with a low grunt. The evergreen fell in a heap on the area rug. What little snow remained on it quickly faded with the heat of the fireplace. Emily hurried over with a dish towel to wipe up the snow that fell on the freshly mopped floors. “She really is a pretty tree. You know your stuff - not that I doubted you.”

“My pops taught me everything I know.” Kit unlaced her boots, pausing to pat Nutmet on the head as she trotted over to help lick some of the ice off the floor. “How to use a saw, an ax, a chainsaw. How to notch it. How to not get crushed.” She left her shoes on a towel Emily laid out for her and got to work on shedding her work gloves. “And how to work hard for what you want. Something my brothers don’t seem to understand.” Emily’s head lifted at the bitterness in Kit’s voice and she spied a twisted frown before the woman quickly smirked at her. 

“Sounds like he was an admirable man. I wish I could have met him - if he was anything like you, he’d be a riot to talk to.”

“Life of the party.” Kit pushed herself up to a stand and pushed an end table up against the other side of the couch so the large window facing the yard had enough free space to decorate. Emily found herself staring from her spot on the floor, admiring her strength. “He always cooked the turkey and kept the guests entertained while mom prepped the table. Never a dull moment when he was around. Though, most years we always tried to make it out to the cabin to celebrate as a family. Lots of memories in this old place...”

Their conversation dissipated like snow in spring. Emily could relate. Her mother breathed life into the diner, raising it from the foundation up and working herself to the bone to make someone else’s day a little brighter. The home she grew up in had become an empty shell without her light. She stretched herself out so thin during the holidays that she would make herself sick. Perhaps that’s what worried a few of the regulars when she herself began doing the same thing.

“Think we can use this?” Emily cleared her throat, moving to the two tubs they brought back from her house. She set the faded red lid aside and pulled out a tree stand coated in a thin film of dust. Breathing in, she scrunched her nose just barely caught her sneeze in the sleeve of her pajama top.

“Bless you.” Kit dusted her hands off with a chuckle, moving to take the stand from her and ungracefully wipe the dust away with her own sleeve. “This will be perfect. Why don’t you dig through the tub and pull out what you want to put on the tree?”

“Hope you don’t mind, most of my ornaments don’t follow a theme. Some of them are weird because I picked them out as a kid.” Emily moved some old garland out of the way and noticed a shiny, chipped Wienermobile ornament she picked out at Mr. Jo’s grocery when she was about 6. She hated hotdogs, but for some reason that jingle was stuck in her head at that age.

“That’s what Christmas is all about ain’t it?” Kit grinned at her from over her shoulder from where she squatted by the tree. “Silly memories from the past?” With a grunt, she hoisted it up and shuffled towards the stand she set up in front of the window. “In we go-” More ice fell off the fragrant branches. With another firm shake, its branches fell right into place without the weight of snow. Emily scooped Nutmeg up before she could attack it, letting Kit have a chance to secure it in the stand before it fell on someone.

Memories of Christmases past flooded her. The sensation of pressing little fingers into sweet sugar cookie dough. Laying next to her wrapped presents, staring at the colorful lights twinkling overhead. The smell of apples and cinnamon engulfing her every waking moment during past Decembers. Emily was content back then, no matter how many presents she received or how little family she had compared to the other kids at school. It was always just her and Mama.

Lost in thought, Emily turned at the creaking noise behind her. Kit pulled a wire, bringing folded stairs leading to the attic down to the ground. Thick, clumped dust fell in heaps onto her head, making her sneeze. “Let’s see what my family left, shall we?” 

-

_ACHOO!_

“Kit?” Emily’s voice called her down from the living room. Bone rattling cold wind blew in from the slats of the roof overhead, the mice chewed insulation doing little to keep Kit warm. She whipped around on her hands and knees, her forehead smacking against one of the wooden eves. 

“Ow… owowow-” Kit cursed under her breath, forehead throbbing. She nursed her wound with a dusty hand and poked her head over the exit to peer down into the living room. Emily wrung her hands together nervously, standing around a couple of red plastic bins pulled from the attic. “Everything okay?”

“Do you think the tree will look good with white and colorful lights? And are you okay?” Her mouth twisted with concern, rocking back and forth on her feet with restless worry.

“Of course!” Kit insisted with a grin, waving off her concerns. There would be a pretty knot on her forehead later but she wasn’t about to let a little bruise get in her way decorating that tree. “Think of it like us - two coming together to make the season brighter.” She spied a bundle of lights tangled up under an old tarp. “Gotcha-” She grabbed them and clambered down the attic stairs. She dumped them on top of one of the tubs and pushed the stairs back up into the ceiling. It creaked and groaned, a light flurry of dust sprinkling the top of her head. 

A tiny giggle made Kit perk up. She turned and found Emily covering her mouth and stifling a laugh. “Sorry, it’s just-” she stepped around the tubs to move close to her, reaching a hand out to run it through her short crop of hair. Taken aback, Kit leaned into the touch and chuckled. She wasn’t used to such affection, especially outside the bed they began sharing. Heat licked her cheeks. For a split second she wondered if Emily would lean in and kiss her. Instead, the hand swiped an ancient piece of tinsel out of her hair. “There we go.”

“Oh,” Kit laughed, rubbing her the back of her neck and looking down at their feet. “At least it wasn’t a spider.” 

Nutmeg trotted up, staring inquisitively at the two of them. Emily bent down, offering her some pets while Kit got to work unboxing the old decorations in the tubs. Bits and baubles glittered in the first one - ornaments, half burnt candles, and tinsel so old it looked like it would disintegrate if she touched it. She laid everything out in neat piles, dusting them off and shaking glitter off some red velvet bows she found at the bottom. Everything smelled faintly of old cinnamon potpourri. And, she thought, of Pop’s aftershave.

“Well would you look at that,” Emily mused, reaching into the second tub. A bundle of old stockings laid in her hands. All of them in different patterns to signify their owners. Pop’s green stocking had a red plaid criss-crossing its old face, a big P embroidered in gold thread that Mom did herself. Then there was Mom’s, an almost pristine, classic red and white stocking. The others were for the children - a blue plaid for Jude, a red plaid for Rodney and-

“Oh god,” Kit sighed, burying her face in her hands so she wouldn’t have to look at the tiny, palm-sized pink stocking. It had faded to a pale pink over time, but there was no mistaking the little ‘K’ embroidered in white just below the “My First Christmas” lettering. 

“No, no, it’s cute!” Emily giggled, cradling the stocking with both hands. There were a few threads frayed around the toe. “You were probably the cutest baby. We should hang these up-”

“No. God no...” Kit uncovered her face, shaking her head. She held her hands out for the stockings, keen on shoving them back where they came from. It wasn’t that she hated the little stocking. Not even seeing Jude or Rodney’s rubbed her the wrong way. But seeing Pop’s old stocking and knowing it would never hold another lump of chocolate coins or his favorite licorice hit her in the gut. “Well, maybe the pink one. We can say it’s Nutmeg’s. But the others…. The others just need to go.” It was a silly thing to get so worked up over. The stockings were just… things. Memories from a time she couldn’t even comprehend what holidays and traditions were. Too young to even enjoy the holidays with her family.

It would be a lie to say that the Christmases before her father passed away were awful. No, the yelling and the arguments didn’t begin until that first Christmas without him. In years past they had plenty of fun. She remembered distinctly the times her father pulled her and her brothers around on a sled after a fresh snowfall. Standing on a stool beside her mother in the kitchen and ultimately ruining whatever she helped her cook. Fighting with Rodney and Jude over who got which Nerf gun as they always insisted she got the smaller one of the bunch because she was the youngest.

But thinking about all of that now sent sour bile rising in the back of her throat. Precious memories had become tinged with the explosive fight those four years back. The anger in Jude’s eyes. The sting of Rodney’s fist connecting with her eye. Her bruised knuckles from where she punched him back. How her mother, broken and sullen from burying her husband that same year, hid in the hallway crying. For her sake, she didn’t want to go back. Not when her brothers would be there.

People always say it’s the time change or the cold weather, but sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s the emptiness. Sometimes it’s having a person-sized hole in your soul and not having them there to fill it every year like they used to. It hurts and you either grow through it or let it hurt for so long it goes numb. Kit questioned if getting that closure with the fear of getting into it with her brothers would even be worth it. Should she just allow it to fester and numb her like it did every year?

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emily finally said, breaking the silence, her voice softer than whipped cream. “We don’t have to put them up. We don’t have to do any of this if it’s too much - trust me, I completely understand.” A pang of guilt struck Kit. “I still think you’re brave for doing this, I would have wallowed if I had been left alone in an empty house on Christmas.”

“I promised you we would have a Christmas of our own,” she replied with a half smile. “We don’t need stockings, but we can use the rest of this stuff.” She reached in and pulled out a shattered gold ornament. “Well, some of it.”

“You know, your mom might like to see these again.” Emily’s eyes remained glued on the stockings in her lap. Nutmeg rested beside her, head against her thigh. Hands ran over the cloth before giving the pup a scritch. “I’m sure it would make a wonderful present. Not as much as seeing you this year, of course.”

“But I’ve got you to look out for.” There was nothing in the world Emily could do to annoy Kit. Even so, her frustrations manifested as a pinched nerve in her neck. Not about her. Just about the potential of seeing her family again. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here all alone on Christmas, I promised-”

“You invited me here, yes-” Emily’s hand still and her brows knit together. She lifted her head slowly. “and you promised me we would have a christmas of our own…so why couldn’t we spend our christmas there? You’ve been supporting me this entire time, I hope you know that I care enough about you that I wouldn’t leave your side a single second if it means letting your mom see you one last time.”

The tears that began to well in those emerald eyes of hers hurt worse than any fist to her eye. Kit winced, watching Emily turn her face so she couldn’t see them fall down her cheek. Did she know her intense disdain towards seeing her family hurt Mom deeply? Of course she did. But Kit didn’t see any other way to remedy it. Why cause stress for Mom and possibly leave with another black eye if things got heated between her and Rodney? Or Jude? None of it seemed worth it - until she saw those tears. Life is tricky. You never know when you’ll get to spend that last holiday with a loved one. Emily was dealing with that fresh loss just like she had when Pop’s passed.

“I’m sorry.” Emily cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I didn’t mean to ruin the decorating. I didn’t mean to push…”

Her own justifications for not seeing her family would only sound selfish to a woman who had no one. No mother, no father, or extended family she could stay with. Their ever deepening relationship was the closest thing Emily had to stability. To family. And who was Kit to throw a fit over being invited to a Christmas dinner and treated as a prodigal child returning home?

Sensing the discomfort, Nutmeg whined and shuffled over until she settled between the both of them. They each reached out a hand to pet her, their fingers brushing. This time neither of them pulled away. Kit’s hand twitched against Emily’s and she slowly brought her gaze up to meet her wet green eyes.

“We’ll stay for an hour. I’ll even drive the getaway car if things turn nasty.” Emily cracked a small smile, using her free hand to wipe the moisture away from her cheeks. “Or overnight if you want some more time with her before your brothers show up.”

“My mom’s gonna think you’re my girl.” Not that Kit cared. She’d love to turn up to family dinner with a ‘girlfriend’ on her arm after not seeing her asshole brothers for four years. The fingers brushing against hers moved in, lacing with hers.

“Then let her. I don’t mind.”

Panic gripped Kit. Every muscle in her body froze on the spot, locking her in place. Was Emily seriously suggesting that? The very thing she had been daydreaming about since Thanksgiving? Or rather, the very thing she’d been trying to avoid thinking about the entire time they’ve been living together. Or was she dreaming?

“You… you wouldn’t mind being my girlfriend? Even if it’s just for one night?”

A sneaky smile curled at Emily’s lips and she followed her glance down to their hands. Kit’s calloused fingers gripped her hand, as if worried she would disappear if she let go. She murmured an apology and loosened her grip but kept a firm hold on her hand. Emily’s skin was like the finest of silk ribbons.

“Would you want it to only be for a night..?” Her voice softened. Nutmeg nudged their hands, eyeing Kit with curiosity behind her little brown eyes. Mouth suddenly dry, she managed to strangle out a quiet ‘no’. Emily Nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip. They were both quiet for a moment. Taking in the new revelation. “Shouldn’t keep the tree waiting, huh? Think you can scavenge some ornaments?”

“Oh yeah, the tree.” Kit laughed, reluctantly slipping her hand away from Emily’s so she could dig through her dusty Christmas tub. She took a deep breath. This made her more nervous than asking a girl out to prom. Or shooting her shot with the grocery clerk back when she lived at home. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Emily tied up her hair and admired the curve of her back as she stretched her shoulders. She couldn’t wait to spend more nights drifting off to sleep with her in her arms - if she would have her. Now she just had to find a way to ask her properly.

-

Evening fell over the little cabin in the woods. The last fingers of golden sun seeped through the thick trees, casting long shadows across the snowy yard. Emily pulled out her new pie experiment - a fudge pie with a crumbly pretzel crust. The salty, sweet goodness wafted up to her face as she pressed a few chocolate covered pretzels into its shiny fudge surface. She glanced over the bar and found Kit digging through the half empty tub of decorations they brought over from her house. The warm light from the crackling fire danced off her auburn curls.

They had spent the better part of the day decorating the tree and the mantel over the fireplace. They worked well together, never fussing over whose ornaments took up too much room or which lights should be strung up first. Three stockings hung over the fireplace - the little pink one for Nutmeg, and Emily’s old red and green plaid one from the 90’s. Her Mama’s hung beside it, turned around with a paper tag stuck to the top with Kit’s name spelled in sharpie. 

“There it is-” She pulled out the glittery gold pipe cleaner halo that fell off her mother’s angel while they moved the tub. “Knew the sucker had to be hiding somewhere. With a little epoxy, this little lady will be good as new.”

Emily made her way over, untying her apron and laying it over the back of one of the barstools. Her mother’s angel sat on the couch, propped up where Kit gently placed. Its faded gold robes were made from an old cloth napkin her mother found buried in the back of the old diner when she bought the building. The wooden face had a crooked painted smile and a single googly eye from where her eye got scratched up by the neighbor’s dog. Although very homemade looking, it served as the last testament of her mother’s resilience and love. She always made it work. Sometimes she wondered how she managed to do it alone.

Somehow, despite how upset she’d been before about the angel, she was calm and at peace with it being there with them.

“Does she have a name?” Kit asked, one of her hands resting ever so gently on Emily’s lower back. Goosebumps cropped up under the sleeves of her sweater..

“You know, I don’t know if we ever did name her. We just called her ‘Angel’.” She leaned down, scooping the fragile angel with both hands. Kit moved in with her free hand, carefully pressing the halo into a notch at the top of her yellow painted hair. It took both of them holding her steady to fit it properly.

“You should do the honors.” Kit shuffled closer to her, the hand at her back sliding up to her shoulder to give her an encouraging push. Emily brought her eyes up to meet her warm, rich brown ones. That combined with the way her cheeks dimpled made her weak in the knees. Patient as always, Kit didn’t push her into doing anything she wasn’t ready for.

Emily nodded once, taking a deep breath. She willed her legs to hold her up right as she made her way to the tree. The evergreen was decorated with a little piece of each of them - blinking white lights from the attic, bulky colorful lights from the Hutchinson house. Mix and match ornaments in nearly every pattern and color imaginable. Even some felt ones Emily had made when she was a child. The fragrant, earthy scent welcomed her. She paused in front of it, watching how it sparkled against the glass window behind it.

Nutmeg trotted up between her legs, sniffing the bottom ring of branches. She bumped one of the red ornaments dangling off the end with her nose. Emily giggled and found her strength to continue. Standing on her tiptoes, she carefully reached for the skinny branch sticking out from the top of the tree. The angel fit perfectly, even if she was a bit crooked. 

Once she was sure it wasn’t going to fall, Emily stepped back and admired their work. The angel grinned at her, seemingly happy to be back on a tree. Her heart swelled as she imagined what her mother would think about it. Seeing how tacky some of their ornaments were, she knew she would love it. And she hoped her mother was looking down and at peace knowing that she could begin to move forward with life.

Emily could rest easy on one thing: she wouldn’t be alone this year.

A familiar arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders. Firm and warm. Kit drew her attention with her gentle affection. “She would be proud of you, you know,” she emphasized with a tender voice. Emily leaned into her touch until their bodies were nearly touching. 

“I know.” Her voice wavered. Even though her eyes began to well up with tears, for the first time since her mother’s passing she finally felt like they weren’t out of sorrow. A weight lifted off her shoulders seeing her mother’s angel sitting in a new home, surrounded by well loved decorations that belonged to someone else. “I think we should call her Dana. The angel, I mean.”

“That’s a beautiful idea, doll.” The arm around her disappeared and fell beside her arm. Kit’s warm fingers laced with her own. “C’mon,” she murmured, guiding her to the couch. Emily sank down after her, curling up tightly beside her and not wanting to let go. Not now, at least. Every night they shared a bed had become the most relaxing night’s sleep she’d ever experienced. There was nothing like cuddling close to someone like Kit. Soft curves cushioning you. An arm draped over you protectively. Or having someone there to stroke your hair if you woke up in the middle of the night. It was like the deepest of wounds that marred her soul could be remedied by the tender affection she provided. Her strong arms would keep her head above water.

They sat there for a while, the TV on but turned down so low they could barely hear what was being said. Neither of them had brought up the ‘girlfriend’ scenario after their conversation earlier. Emily assumed Kit was weighing her options - surely a woman like her had several women waiting at her doorstep before she moved in for the holidays. Strong, charismatic, warm and kind. The perfect package in her eyes. Maybe that girl from geometry was still hoping to get a call from her.

Emily snuggled closer, and Kit snaked an arm around her shoulders. She hesitated for a moment, leaning her head in to rest on her sturdy shoulder. Even with the scent of chocolate lingering in the air, she smelled heavily of pine and the Old Spice deodorant she always wore. It made her head swim. Whatever movie playing out on screen was the last thing on her mind. Even the inkling of sorrow she still held fast to began slipping away the longer they sat there.

Daring to glance up at Kit, Emily’s heart skipped a beat. Curious eyes were stealing a look, too. She averted her gaze, worried that she made her uncomfortable or that she had cuddled too close. But when she raised her gaze she was met with tender brown eyes. The living room melted away. Soft, warm light enveloped them in a haze. The arm around her tightened slightly and her lips parted in surprise when Kit leaned in.

Then there was a pause. Breath hitched in Emily’s throat. She didn’t move away or tease her. Kit’s lips were nearly touching her. She watched her through her lashes, noses almost bumping. The heat emitting from her cheeks felt like it could melt her like caramel. She wanted to say something - anything. The words died on her lips and she waited.

“Can I kiss you?” Kit’s request came softer than a whisper. Just barely audible over the crackling of the fire. Emily’s heart raced and goosebumps washed over her skin. Mouth full of cotton she gave a small nod and forced herself to breathe. Kit’s free hand came up, caressing the side of her face so gently as if she were made of fine porcelain. She searched her eyes once more, waiting for Emily to change her mind. When she didn’t, she ducked her head down.

Warm. Kit’s full lips were so warm. Emily shuddered. Her own lips were probably the most awkward sensation, though she doubted she would judge her for being inexperienced. For a first kiss, it felt just like she had imagined it. It nurtured her soul.

A calloused thumb brushed over her cheekbone and up into her hair. Emily couldn’t think straight. She reached out, touching the collar of her flannel and grasping at it in an attempt to ground herself. The two of them shifted until their bodies were flush against one another. It wasn’t until she pulled away and chuckled that Emily realized she was holding her breath the whole time. She withdrew a shaking breath.

“Breath.” Kit grinned, touching a finger beneath her chin. She nodded, blowing out hot air. The heat in her cheeks spread to every digit of her hands and toes. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt about this.”

“I would be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about this for a while, too.” Emily’s lips still tingled when she touched a couple of fingertips to her bottom lip. Their kiss would have made even the most loving couples in the Hallmark movies jealous. She doubted her teenage self would have had the gusto to chase after the fleeting thoughts she had about women. Kit seemed to revel in being told she felt the same way. She ducked her head down, smiling shyly at nothing in particular. The dimples in her round cheeks oh so kissable. 

“It’s true-” Emily continued, tugging gently at her collar to get her to look at her again. “Ever since you started coming in every morning for breakfast I knew I liked you. I’ve never gotten this far with anyone before. Never thought I would ever get to… you know... “

“Do this?” Kit dove in, stealing a playful kiss. Emily’s lips trembled and she was left speechless and wide eyed yet again.

“Yep… exactly.” Her voice croaked and she stifled the urge to bashfully bury her face against her worn red flannel. There were a few times during their nights sharing a bed that she thought about stealing a cheek kiss or a forehead kiss when Kit wasn’t aware of it. She quite enjoyed it when the lumberjane did the same thing for her. She dragged her eyes down to her lips and bit the inside of her cheek. “Could… could you kiss me again? Just for practice, since we’re going to be ‘girlfriends’ at your mom’s and all.”

Kit chuckled and, to her relief, didn't tease her for her reaction. Instead, she cupped her face with both hands and eagerly pulled her into another kiss. Emily melted like a marshmallow in hot cocoa. Nothing could ruin the moment. Not even Nutmeg jumping into their laps with her half-eaten dog treat she made her earlier. She hoped even after a thousand kisses that the butterflies in her stomach would continue to tickle her like they did in that moment. She was glad she decided to stay a little while longer. Maybe she could work up the courage by Christmas to ask her out.


	9. Coming Home

Before Kit could even bat an eye, Christmas Eve arrived. Plans were set in motion not long after Emily convinced her to see her family; they would be staying with her mom that night and stay for Christmas dinner the next day. If she could manage it. The days leading up to that day melded together. Between stealing kisses and showing up to the diner with flowers on a couple of occasions, there was little time to do much more before falling into bed together each night exhausted and well worked.

Emily nearly broke her back over her pie orders, but nothing ever dampened her smile the whole time she rolled out dough and stirred fillings. Something Kit always admired about her. With thirty pie orders in the works, she still managed to find time to make two pies for her trip to the Acker house. Apple and pumpkin. Her mouth watered just looking at them the night before when she brought them home and she would have stolen a taste if it weren’t for playful threats. 

Despite the brave face she put on for Emily, a pit of dread formed in Kit’s stomach the closer Christmas eve drew. She procrastinated packing her overnight bag - as well as Nutmeg’s - and dragged her feet packing the car with everything they would need. She wouldn’t openly admit she wanted to wuss out.

“Got everything?” Emily piped up, crunching through the light snow to get to the Chevy. Despite having her own sweaters and puffy jacket, she shrugged on the first jacket Kit ever got from Kindred Logging. The stitching in the green lettering frayed and there were parts that had scratches and stains from the elbow grease she put in when she first got the job. Desperate to prove herself. She smiled, pulling her into a half hug - careful to not knock the packaged pies out of her hand. The red and gold ribbons tied on top glittered in the sunlight.

“Long as I have you, I’ve got everything I need.” Kit leaned in for a kiss, sighing against Emily’s lips. Nutmeg barked and grumbled, pulling her mother’s attention away. One of her pointy ears drooped and she waited by the door with an impatient huff. Chuckling, she kneeled down and scratched her behind the ears. “Ok, ok, you and Nutmeg. You’re all I need.” Over her shoulder, Emily beamed at them with the patience of a saint. Then she realized she was still standing by the passenger door with her arms full. “Lemme get that for you.”

Emily settled in, tucking her legging clad legs in so Nutmeg could hop in behind her with a little help from Kit. She found a comfy spot on top of her bed, curling up and panting with excitement. Kit shut the door securely behind them before finding her way to her side of the truck. A part of her wondered if she would luck out and the old thing would give out halfways there.

“I hope your mom likes the twist I put into apple pie,” Emily murmured. Her fingers fretted over the way the ribbons curled. The truck rocked to and fro as it pulled onto the main road and picked up speed. “Pumpkin’s a classic, but I keep thinking I should have done a classic apple rather than an experiment.“

Kit glanced over, noticing the worry lining her delicate features. She reached over the console and laid a hand over her knee in a comforting gesture. It twitched under her gentle squeeze. “She’ll love it, trust me. You practically had to beat me off of it last night with a stick. As long as you didn’t use taco seasoning, it’ll be perfect, I promise.” Emily giggled, smoothing chilly fingers over her knuckles. It warded off the dark pit festering in her stomach. 

“I made sure to throw that out and bring home a new bottle of cinnamon, so I think we’re good to go.”

Thin fingers laced with hers and Emily raked the silky pad of her thumb over her knuckles as if sensing her silent tension. Kit could feel the stiffness in her muscles melting away and she flashed her a sweet smile of appreciation. A mix of anxiety and butterflies attacked her stomach. She couldn’t wait for her mom to meet her. She wondered what kind of cooking shenanigans they would find themselves in. In the back of her mind she pictured the two of them chatting like old hens, surrounded by the pie and cinnamon rolls.

The ride to Highchapel took a couple of hours. The steep cliff sides of Greenwood gave way to lush farmland and thickets of hearty trees. The trip would have been at least a half hour shorter, butKit couldn’t help herself; she took plenty of backroads to point out spots she and her brothers used to get up to no good. The McPearson’s ranch where they once accidentally set fire to their fence - including the scorched tree that the McPearson’s never cut down at the front of their property. The spot where her brothers attempted cow tipping and left her behind at the age of 10 because she couldn’t run as fast as they could.

“That’s awful of them,” Emily gasped, wide eyed and downright horrified at the idea of little Kit Acker all alone on a country road.

“Yeah,” Kit laughed. “They’re real assholes. Pops gave them dirty work to do for it, too. Cleaning the chicken coops and mucking the stables. Serves them right, too. Wish he was still around to put them in their place like he used to when we were little.”

The old Chevy slowed. Downtown Highchapel didn’t have much to offer. It wasn’t much different from Greenwood - tiny shops lined the blocky streets, decked to the nines for Christmas. Instead of an ice rink in town square, locals pitched canopies to sell their wares. Fresh milk, homemade jams, and even whole turkeys freshly picked from their own farms. The crowds were sparse and many of them had been abandoned in favor of spending the evening with loved ones. One of the older men packing up his pickup with half empty cases of jam practically dropped the crate in his hands when he made eye contact with them at a stop sign. Kit chuckled, rolling down her window. 

“That you, Kit Acker?” The man called, hobbling through the shallow snow bank at the curb. He lit up like a Christmas tree, older than she remembered him. Wire rimmed glasses fogged up from his heavy breathing. He pulled at his denim overalls, hoisting them back up from under his parka.

“Sure is, Mr. McPearson. Coming home to see Mom this year.” He reached in and Kit didn’t hesitate to give him a firm handshake just like Pops taught her. A good handshake could take you far in life, he would tell her. Especially in a career dominated by men.

“Oh your mom’s been telling anybody who listens.” He laughed, pulling his glasses off to rub the fog away. He squinted just past Kit and spied Emily and Nutmeg who moved to the front when they got into town. The pup perked up, leaning against her honorary second mother protectively. “Now who might this little lady be?”

“This is my girl… friend?” The word was foreign on her tongue. It had easily been five or six years since her last relationship. They still hadn’t made anything official in the days leading up to their trip. She wanted to ask when the time was right. Kit whipped her head around to look at her. Pink stained her cheeks and her emerald eyes sparkled. The smile stretching across her face was even brighter.

“Girlfriend, eh?” Anderson jabbed her shoulder with his elbow and winked. “It’s nice to meet you ‘Kit’s Girlfriend’. Well tell your mom I said hello and make sure she comes and picks up her jams next Saturday, ‘kay?” Kit dropped her head, shaking it with a laugh, the heat that spilled into her limbs unbearable. She felt like she needed to roll out of the car and lay in the snow for a while..

“Will do, Mr. McPearson. Tell your family I said ‘hi’ for me, will ya?” 

With that, Kit rolled up her window and started off down the road to the other side of town. The car was silent save for Nutmeg’s whines as they passed sweater clad dogs on the street with their owners. Emily broke the silence first, clearing her throat slightly and distracting herself with the pup’s soft fur. “So… girlfriends, huh?” she giggled.

“Just for the trip, remember?” The heat in Kit’s cheeks spread to the point where she could feel it burning behind her eyes. She caught a glance at herself in the rearview mirror. The goofy smile would be there for a while. Emily always managed to find a way to make it stick. She wasn’t completely serious about staying in limbo just for the trip. She knew exactly how she wanted to move forward with their relationship.

-

Emily squirmed in her seat as Kit turned down a gravel road obscured by grand pine trees. Nutmeg’s little paws dug into her thighs as she turned circles trying to take everything in. The Chevy rumbled and kicked up tiny stones hidden beneath the snow. She didn’t expect the Ackers to live in the rural part of Highchapel, though it seemed they had a penchant for it given the cabin in Greenwood. The road opened up to a wider path flanked by a swath of ancient looking pines. 

“Hold on to your pies,” Kit said, urging the truck along. Her voice dropped to a mutter just barely audible over the sound of tires on icy gravel. “Rodney did a crap job shoveling. Glad Mom hasn’t gotten stuck in this mess.”

They came to the end of the short road. The trees on either side, to Emily’s delight, were littered with large red and green ornaments and chunky white Christmas lights. At the end of the road sat a white gate with a huge red velvet ribbon tied on each post on either side. Just past it sat wide open land. Easily 10 acres. She could make out a farmhouse sitting in the middle, flanked by a handful of snow covered trees. Behind that: a gorgeous view of the best Oregon had to offer. Tall hills swathed with towering trees. Everything washed in the lavender glow of twilight. The kind of view most people could only get through a glittery Christmas card. She almost missed the barn sitting behind the house with curious goats watching them from the fenceline.

The old Chevy pushed forward once the gate swung open for them. “Here we are,” Kit sighed. Emily hoped it was out of relief that their long car ride was over, but she couldn’t be too sure. So she wrapped her arms around Nutmeg to keep her from falling out of her lap and fixed her eyes on the old, well cared for farmhouse. The closer they got, the better she could make out the collection of Christmas decorations - white icicle lights wrapping around the roof and the eves of the two story home. Plain white lights wrapped around the railing for the large porch. Each of the five rocking chairs outside had their own Christmas themed throw pillows and the initial of each family member stitched on the front. Two perfect velvet ribbons were tied to the columns on either side of the stairs where they met the railing.

Kit pulled up to the front of the house, shutting the truck off. “Here, lemme come around and help you.” Nutmeg took off, gut punching Emily with her back feet as she hurled herself out of the driver’s side door. Cold air blew in, ruffling her hair. The ribbons on her pies shuddered. She huddled inside her jacket and thanked Kit when she came around to open the door for her.

Old converse slipped against the ice that caked on the step bar below her door. Kit caught her, one arm around her waist and the other at the pies to keep them from flying. “I gotcha,” she snickered, helping her stand upright on her own two feet. 

The front screen door of the spacious farmhouse flew open. A woman shuffled out, almost an exact duplicate of Kit. Long auburn curls pulled back from round freckled cheeks and a curvy build. She wore an apron around her waist splattered with what looked to be either turkey gravy or pie filling.

“My Kit!” Mrs. Acker cried, running down the stairs despite only wearing house shoes and a dress. Kit released Emily, doing a double take to make sure she was still standing, and opened her arms up for her mother to run into. She was shorter than her daughter only by an inch or two. Up close she could see the crow’s feet around her eyes, an obvious sign that she liked to smile. Emily couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what Kit would look like in a couple of decades. Just a tad taller with a taste for a more masculine look. Tears streamed down her cheeks, wetting her daughter’s coat.

“It’s good to see you, mom.” Kit patted her back, her chin quivering a bit. Emily’s heart twisted behind her ribs and she reached out, putting a hand on her back to let her know she was there to support her. Mrs. Acker’s eyes flitted to the newcomer and she quickly wiped her eyes with a laugh.

“And you must be Emily!” Kit pulled away, moisture in her dark eyes, and took the pies from Emily so her mother could envelope her in a tight hug. She barely got her arms around her before it felt like she would crush her ribs with how tight she held onto her. Warm and motherly, she found herself melting into Mrs. Acker’s hug. She couldn’t remember the last time a mother held her like this. 

Sure, Mama would hug her, but being bed bound made it exceedingly hard to do the sicker her mother got. Her chest ached and she sniffled as her vision began to blur with fresh tears. Mrs. Acker slowly pulled back, noticing how Emily trembled. Her kind face softened and she reached up to cup her face. “Honey, I’m so happy you’re here with us. And I’m so thankful you’ve brought my Kit back to me this year. Our home is your home this year.”

Emily dropped her head, half laughing as she quickly swept away the tears. Although she would have been embarrassed by this in the past, she was grateful the woman wasn’t put off by her emotions. She nodded. “I’m happy to be here. Truly. I haven’t had a real Christmas in so long with my mother being sick… Thank you, Mrs. Acker.”

Mrs. Acker pulled her in for another hug before wiping away tears of her own. “Please, call me mom - if you’re comfortable with it. And let’s get the two of you inside, you must be starving.” Emily looked at Kit who watched the two of them as if she were seeing snow for the first time. She extended a hand for her to hold and they followed her inside the warm farmhouse. Nutmeg waited for them at the door, shaking off snow that clung to the stomach of her blue sweater.

The inside of the house was just as homely as the outside. A mishmash of modern farmhouse and old rustic decor cluttered the walls. It reminded Emily of Kit’s old decor they hung up on their tree back at the cabin and her general style. Granted, she quietly teased her for having the same taste in decor as an old fishing dad - which she didn’t deny. 

The foyer opened up to a living room with enough seating to hold a little league baseball team. Pictures littered every wall in the cozy space. A baby picture of two boys in matching t-shirts that said “big brother” and “little brother” in big blocky letters. Another one of a baby girl absolutely swallowed up by frills, pink and lace. Her face found and scrunched up like she had just finished throwing a tantrum. Emily paused there to read the gold lettering in the corner. 

Kit Acker, 1993

“Oh my, you were a cute baby,” She cooed, pointing at the picture. Little Kit’s chubby cheeks and wild auburn hair was a constant in every picture. As well as the frills until about age twelve. Kit shook her head with an exaggerated sigh and silly smirk.

“Just wait until mom brings out the baby books,” she groaned jokingly. She pulled Emily along until they reached the kitchen. It looked like Christmas dinner came early. Mrs. Acker stood proudly at the head of the table, hands on her wide hips. All of Kit’s favorite foods were set out in family style dishes; homemade chicken fried steak, roasted potatoes and a small, carved ham. The scent of rosemary, sage and butter made her mouth water.

“Mom,” Kit chuckled, eyeing the food with a bittersweet smile. Emily remembered some of their conversations drifting towards the topic of Mrs. Acker’s cooking and how she missed the food she made. It was one of the reasons why Emily was adamant about making breakfast for her every morning - to make her feel a little less alone. To make both of them feel less alone.

“C’mon, take the load off, ladies, you’re home now.”

With the pies placed on the other end of the table, hands reached around Emily’s shoulders. Kit slipped it down her arms, laying it over the back of the chair. Her sweater dress was just warm enough in the cozy home. She pulled the chair out for her and helped her scoot in all while Mrs. Acker beamed at them.

Though not religious herself, Emily bowed her head when she prompted them to say grace. She reached blindly under the table, eyes focused on the lace tablecloth in front of her. A calloused finger grazed her pink, nearly earning a gasp from her. They held tight to one another, eager to spend time together without worrying about the Acker brothers.

-

By the time the three of them finished dinner, half the food still remained on their serving plates. Kit sat back in her chair with a low sigh. She had to unbuckle her belt to finish and she thanked her past self for skipping out on lunch. Even if they left before Christmas dinner the next day, she would be content with this meal for years to come. She loved Emily’s food, but there was something about Mom’s mashed potatoes that really hit the spot. 

Draping an arm across the back of her dining chair, she watched as Emily sat propped up beside her mom looking through the aforementioned baby book. It took up both of their laps. There wasn’t a single picture she didn’t ooh and aww at.

Every so often she would look up from the book to flash her a cheerful grin or a curious gleam, and every time Kit smiled back. It was strange sitting in her childhood home after four years. She could still make out the plastered over hole in the wall by the refrigerator where someone punched the wall after the big fallout. She couldn’t be sure if it was Rodney or Jude’s fault. For a room so peaceful and quiet in the moment, it was once a storm of rage and pain. Every ounce of it weighed on her.

That festering pit in her stomach grew thinking about what was to come. The picture of Rodney and Jude in her mind had smug smiles and nasty words for her. She wouldn’t fight them this time around - not with Emily there. No, she wanted to leave before anything drastic happened. Her younger self was quick to anger and fight back then, but now she had someone else to look after. She grew up over the last four years.

Nutmeg rose up on her hindlegs, paws resting on Kit’s knees. She licked her lips from the tiny bites of turkey she snuck her under the table and whined. “There, there, girl,” Kit chuckled, leaning down to pull the pup onto her lap. Nutmeg nudged her arm and nestled right under her armpit. Mom looked up from the baby book, her matching brown eyes filled with adoration and a tinge of sorrow. It knotted her stomach remembering the state she last saw her mother in - crying on the steps of the house as she drove away in her Chevy with hardly anything packed up.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Her mom said with a soft sigh, closing the photobook and watching the old blue and white kitchen clock hanging over the stove. 9 PM was late for her mom, Kit knew, and for her when she thought about how much work needed to be done the next day. Everywhere she looked, she spied little things that needed touching up. The broken window pane over the sink, the leaky faucet she saw in the guest bathroom earlier. “I wasn’t sure if you two… were sharing a room or not… “ 

Heat bloomed in Kit’s cheeks and she avoided her mother’s curious glance. Share a room? She still hadn’t asked Emily out properly! Sure, they’d been sharing the room back at the cabin, but it was different when her mom put it like that and knew they would be cuddled up in the same bed. Shifting in her chair, she tried to find a way to gracefully turn down the offer of sharing a room.

“Yes, sharing a room would be fine,” Emily said before she could speak up. She rose from her seat, smoothing out her oversized red sweater. She said it in the most innocent way even though alarm bells rang in Kit’s ears. “I would hate for you to have to do more laundry after we leave.” Slight panic bubbled in her stomach. Was there something she expected of her now that they were unofficially dating? Would this be any different than all the previous nights they spent sharing a bed? Surely not, there was nothing sexy about sleeping in her old childhood room.

Oh god, they were sharing her childhood bedroom.

“You’re a sweetheart, Emily,” Mom fawned, grasping one of Emily’s hands and giving it a squeeze. She stood up and untied her apron to lay it over the back of her chair. “Let me show you to Kit’s room.” 

Reluctantly, Kit set Nutmeg down on the ground and followed them to the stairs by the living room. Memory of all the games she and her brothers used to play flooded her mind. Especially the time they convinced her that she could sled down the stairs in an old apple crate. She could still make out the scuff marks in the wood stairs peering out from either side of the old green runner. And, of course, the scribbled crayon on the wall just barely obscured by a framed photo of their family. Her pop’s bald portrait smiled at her as they passed it by. That same sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. Was it too late to run now?

“I’ve kept it pretty much the same.” Mom flicked on the light to Kit’s old bedroom. It was still a little messy, old clothes from high school - that she definitely couldn’t fit anymore - still hung up in the closet that remained half open. If it weren’t for her name carved into a cherry wood plank above her bed, it could have been mistaken for one of her brother’s rooms. The only ‘girly’ items she had were stashed away in her dresser. Save for the Pirates of the Carribean and Evanescence posters tacked up on the walls. And the sharpie hearts she drew around Keira Knightley’s face. And the handful of pink and purple beanie babies sitting on her bed.

Emily touched the edge of her full sized bed, where her green plaid comforter was tucked in under her mattress. Kit always knew her mom made beds better than she could and the scent of freshly laundered sheets filled the room. Mom moved to the closet, pulling down some extra pillows and an extra blanket so they wouldn’t have to share just the two on the bed.

“What’s this?” Emily said, moving to her dresser where a bronze trophy of an ax sat proudly among some old keepsakes from Kit’s younger years. She chuckled, coming up beside her and resting a hand at her lower back.

“I forgot about that. I did an ax throwing competition back when I turned 18.”

“Kit threw an awful fit when they told her she wasn’t allowed to compete. It was supposed to be for the boys who worked for the company.” Mom looked up from dressing the fresh pillows, winking at Kit with a sly grin. She was always right beside her when she fought for recognition in the company. Well, until Rodney and Jude took over.

“It was bullshit,” Kit snorted, shaking her head. “Not letting me or the other women in the company participate.”

“Kit, language.”

“Sorry, mom.”

“There we are.” Mom fluffed the mismatched pillows and added them to the small pile at the head of the bed. “Kit, could you take a look at something for me before you go to bed?”

Kit raised a brow but didn’t think much of it. There were probably more issues around the house that her mom hid as well as she could. Irritation bubbled within her. Rodney and Jude spent every Sunday lunch over at the house and neither of them seemed to be helping Mom. Or at least she assumed that they didn’t do anything. She could only imagine how much work it took to keep a business running. Even thinking about the state of Acker lumber put a bad taste in her mouth.

Following her mom, Kit double checked to make sure Emily had everything she needed before closing the door to her bedroom. As soon as they were alone on the small landing at the top of the stairs, Mom paused and took her hands in hers, cold as ice but as delicate as lace. They shook, fingers pressing into her palms.

“Please, please be civil tomorrow,” she begged in a weak voice. Sad eyes welled up with tears, turning her brown eyes into pools of melted chocolate. “Rodney and Jude mean well, they really do. And they’ve gotten the same talk from me. I can’t take another…” her words trailed off and she dipped her head to restrain a strangled whimper. “I can’t take another fight. Not this year. Not when I just got you back.”

Kit frowned. Her hands twitched, wanting to pull away from her and go back to her room. The anger that stalked below her surface began to dissipate. She spent more time thinking about how much her brother hurt her and not enough time taking into account how much this hurt their gentle mother. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed thickly to push it back down.

“I just want an apology, Mom. From the both of them. It’s not right what they did to me, you know that.”

“I know… I know. I just wanted to have one more happy Christmas with all my children. I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again.” Mom reached up, cupping Kit’s warm cheek. Her thumb brushed over a tear that she tried desperately to blink back. She smiled warmly. “I’m proud that you’ve found someone who makes you happy. Emily is a sweet girl.”

“She is.” Kit sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her button up shirt. Her voice turned raspy. “She really is. Sometimes I think she saved me, you know. She tells me all the time I’m the one who saved her, but I disagree. Been thinking about that all month.”

Mom leaned in, kissing her daughter’s cheek like she used to every night when Kit was young. “Get some rest. The boys won’t be over until dinner’s ready. I hope you stay.”

“I’ll try, mom, I’ll try.” Kit cuddled close to her mom, giving her a bear hug. She held her there for a moment before letting go with a small smile. Another tear slipped down her cheek and she silently cursed it. She watched Mom turn and head back down the stairs, making sure she wasn’t looking before covering her eyes and groaning under her breath. Her head ached from the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. She could picture the scowls on Rodney and Jude’s faces and imagine the snarky comments they would make about her job at Kindred. How Acker Logging managed to one-up them the year before in terms of numbers. 

Blowing out a sharp breath, Kit brushed away the tears clinging to her lashes and turned back to her bedroom. She didn’t want Emily to worry.

-

“Oh no…” While Kit was away helping her mother, Emily dug through their travel bag and panicked when she realized she forgot to pack up some pajamas to wear. She’d been so worried about choosing the right sweater to wear on Christmas day and which pies to bring Mrs. Acker that it completely went over her head. Awkwardly, she rifled through Kit’s neatly folded clothes in her old dresser to find anything that would work.

Her style didn’t seem to change since leaving home. Emily chuckled, pulling open one drawer filled to the brim with durable flannel work shirts. All with the ‘Acker Logging’ logo stitched in red on the breast pocket. In another, she found a few band tees, some old ratty t-shirts that looked to have been passed down from either her father or brothers. The bottom drawer held something she’d never seen the rugged lumberjane ever wear: a couple of skirts and frilly blouses. They looked like they belonged to a far younger Kit. She held one of the poofy sleeved blouses up and giggled quietly.

“My mom always made me wear those to church.” Emily jumped out of her skin at the sound of Kit’s voice. She looked up and saw her closing the door behind herself. She swore she could see tears in her eyes, but she turned away to dig through her closet before she could get a proper look. “I don’t mind pink, lace and dresses. Though, I think they look better on other women. Much better.”

“I’m sorry for snooping, I just forgot to pack clothes and-” Emily quickly tucked the blouse away and closed the drawer, pushing up to a stand. Kit waved her concerns off with a smile she flashed over her shoulder. 

“It’s fine, I’ve got nothing to hide. Did you need something?” It was then when Emily caught her gaze that she realized she had been crying as she suspected. Pink rings were beginning under her eyes. Only slightly. Enough of a difference from how she normally looked that she could tell right away.

“I forgot my pajamas… are you okay, Kit? Is everything alright?” Emily wrung her hands together, worrystriken. It wasn’t like her to cry. Kit, however, played off her concerns with a small laugh as she pulled out an old navy blue thermal.

“‘Course I’m fine. Take anything you need, I’ve got lots of stuff in that old thing.” She motioned with her chin towards the dresser before hesitating. “Do you mind if I change here…? I don’t mind going to the bathroom to do it, if you’d rather I change there.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ll just-” Emily turned back around to face the dresser. Heat flooded her cheeks imagining what Kit would look like naked. Oh god, why was she thinking about that? Something was wrong and she needed to get to the bottom of it. 

Diving into the top drawer, she pulled out a pair of worn out athletic shorts. They looked like they would fit her even though the elastic waistband had torn in a couple of spots from heavy wear. The Highchapel High mascot logo was almost illegible after so many washes. As quick as she could, she pulled off her leggings and stepped into the shorts. To her luck, they fit just right, if but a tiny bit too short. She dared to peek over her shoulder and found Kit’s back still turned to her. Bare. Save for a black sports bra that criss-crossed over her shoulder blades.

Under her flannels and thermal shirts, she had soft curves and a hint of definition in her back and arms from her laborious job. Soft skin bulged ever so slightly where her waist met her hips. The freckles, though light, continued down her shoulders to her upper arms. Though she may have been biased, Kit was the strongest, most gorgeous woman she ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.

And tense. Though no medical expert, Emily could spy the tight muscle in her neck and shoulders. The woman who always tried to be the rock for her to stand on had a silent war raging inside of her. A war she desperately tried to hide through soft kisses and fresh flowers.

Emily’s legs carried her over to her without really thinking about what she was doing. Before Kit could put her sweater on, she reached out and brushed her fingers against the dip of her spin. Just under her bra. She jumped, casting a wide, bewildered look over her shoulder. “Can I… can I rub your shoulders? You seem tense and I want to help.” Emily paused, embarrassment tinging her worry. Kit looked away, the tips of her ears burning red hot. She didn’t smile, but she nodded.

“Alright.”

Fingers brushed against Kit’s wrist until they found her hand. Emily led the way to the bed, using her free hand to move the Beanie Babies over to the side table. She propped the pillows and only released her hand to crawl up onto the springy mattress. It wasn’t until Kit clambered up after her and settled criss-cross in between her legs that she realized how close they were. How the heat of her bare skin radiated off her back. If it weren’t for the sweater she wore and their pants, they would be naked. It made her head swim.

Just as delicately as she handled her pie crust, Emily touched Kit’s shoulders and dug her fingers into the muscle. A low groan rumbled in her chest and throat. The vibrations in her throat carried to her shoulders. She worked her taut pane of skin like it was made of bread dough. Every so often Kit would hum in approval or turn her head side to side to stretch out her neck. No words needed to be exchanged. The muscle began to melt against her fingers, loosening as a reward for her work.

Fingers slid down Kit’s arms, running along her galaxy of freckles. So cute. And so kissable. Without really thinking, Emily leaned forward and pressed her lips against the top of her shoulder. It shuddered. Looking up, Emily could only see the curve of her jaw and cheek. She didn’t seem to get much of a reaction, so she let her lips glide along Kit’s shoulder until it reached her neck. She gave another shudder and this time a sniffle. 

Emily pulled back as if she had been burned on a hot stove. “Kit?”

“I’ve spent these last four years making a name for myself,” Kit answered, her voice raspy and low. “Building up a reputation in a new company from the ground up. And yet I still feel like that same sad, angry little girl thinking about seeing them tomorrow.” Emily’s hands gave her upper arms a gentle squeeze, piecing everything together.

“Your brothers.” 

Kit nodded, swiping an arm over her eyes. “It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. All of it. The company, the fight, and…” she shook her head, blowing out a sharp breath. At long last, she looked over her shoulder at Emily, her cheeks streaked with tears and flushed. “Well, I don’t regret moving out. I wouldn’t have met you. I can say that much, at least.”

Emily’s heart twisted in her chest. Being stabbed in the gut would have been easier than seeing Kit in such a state. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around her middle as tight as she could. She wanted her to feel the way she made her feel all throughout the month of December: held.. “It’s not stupid, Kit. You put a lot of thought and care into what you do - and that includes your job and family. It’s not stupid to care.”

“I don’t like seeing my mom begging for me to stay.” Kit leaned back, pressing some of her weight against Emily. “It’s easier to tell her no over the phone, but to see her crying in person... it kills me a little. I can’t just leave tomorrow, even if I want to. I can’t do that to her again.”

“Then don’t.” Emily kept her voice soft yet firm, leaning her head forward against Kit’s shoulder. Even without a shirt on, she still smelled of pine. “Let’s stay. What are your brothers going to do? Laugh at their sister who’s made a name for herself? Tease you about being in management in a successful company? Mock you for having a girlfriend?”

Despite the tears that continued to roll down her cheeks, Kit managed to chuckle. Her arms overlapped Emily’s. “I’ll fight them if they try laughing at us.”

“Not if I can’t get to them first,” Emily laughed, pressing her lips against her neck again. This time, Kit relaxed further against her. The sensation of her weight and bare skin sent goosebumps down her arms. “I might look weak, but my hands are strong. They’ll be catching them if they even think about opening their mouths against you.”

The two shared a giggle until it faded into comfortable silence. It warmed Emily to hear Kit laughing again. Lying back against the pillows, she laid her head back against the headboard and sighed. Kit stiffened again and wriggled around in her arm so she was half turned towards her. They locked eyes. Hers looked like amber honey, still glossy with tears. The smile that dimpled her cheeks faded ever so slightly. Emily tilted her head, sensing tension buzzing in the air. Dark eyes dipped down to her lips, dragging slowly back up to her eyes.

Kit turned over fully, propping herself up on both arms over her. Emily’s heart leapt into her throat. Hands cupped her soft cheeks. In a haze, their lips connected with the kind of tenderness that set her soul ablaze. Their bodies pressed close, not unlike the times previous when they shared Kit’s bed for the night. Only this time, it felt like being on a roller coaster that was set on fire.

Kit pulled back, her lips twisted like a cinnamon roll halfway between a smirk and a grin. Emily let out a shaky breath, her chest aching from holding it for so long. “Forget how to breathe again?” Kit teased.

“Only because you stole it from me.” Emily leaned back in, showering her cheeks with kisses. She kissed every tear left, and she would kiss a dozen more if it meant Kit felt safe and comfortable. After all they were girlfriends. Kind of.


	10. Family Reunion

Canned biscuits and leftover fried ham greeted them come late morning when they finally rolled out of bed. A sweet aroma filled the farmhouse. Mrs. Acker had set a pot of spices and orange slices to make the house as comforting as possible. It reminded Emily of mornings with her Mama growing up. The traditional stacks of pancakes they would eat while apple cider simmered on the stove for them to drink after presents.

The Acker home wrapped Emily in a warm embrace. She fell into place right beside Mrs. Acker once breakfast had been groggily devoured, hands busying themselves by washing their dishes and rolling her sleeves up to begin prepping their Christmas feast.

She tried to imagine what it would be like for Mama to be there right beside them. Two sets of motherly hands setting to work on the side dishes and turkey stuffing. Two families coming together to meet one another and exchange stories about the two lovebirds and their younger years. Cackling like two hens in a coop. She knew Mama would have accepted her no matter who she loved. Standing there beside Mrs. Acker, she liked to think she was smiling down on them. She would be happy she wasn’t alone for the holidays.

It warmed Emily to be treated like a second daughter in the kitchen. Mrs. Acker lovingly fussed over making sure her sweater sleeves didn’t get soiled by chicken broth. Feeding her small spoonfuls of side dishes to make sure she got the right amount of salt. She shared her ‘secrets’ for making her brown sugar ham the center piece for the meal.

“Love,” Mrs. Acker told Emily. “All you have to do is add love and it will turn out perfect. That’s the trick to my old magic.”

“My mama used to say the same thing-” She smiled down at her flour coated fingers folding the biscuit dough in her bowl over to let it rest. “If you love what you do, and love who you feed, then your food would never taste bad.”

“She must have been one wise woman.” Mrs. Acker looked up at her with those same glittering eyes her daughter had. Dimpled cheeks flanked the soft wrinkles around her mouth and her crows feet scrunched together. 

“Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop coming to the diner.” Kit’s voice drew their attention away from the bowl cluttered countertop. She was still in her pajamas, her feet jammed into her boots with the pj bottoms scrunched around the tops. She pulled on her winter coat and picked up an ancient blue toolbox sitting by the back door. Making her way over with a tired smile, she wrapped her free arm around Emily’s waist and leaned in to kiss behind her ear. “It’s not even cooked yet, but I just know you put your own magic in it.”

A ripple of tingles spilled down Emily’s back and she had to stop herself from getting flour in Kit’s hair by wrapping her arms around her. Glancing at Mrs. Acker, she could make out a playful grin of her own painting her face. “I mean, I do enjoy making you breakfast. And I’m not just saying that because you burn everything you touch.” She poked the tip of her tongue out at Kit and laughed when the arm around her gave her a gentle squeeze.

“See, that’s why I think you should stay a little while longer-” Kit released her and passed the toolbox between her hands with a wink. “I need a teacher or else I’m gonna starve when you move into your apartment.”

“Kit, honey, what do you need a toolbox for?” Mrs. Acker rinsed her hands off in the sink, a crease forming along her forehead.

“You’ve got a draft coming in through one of the living room windows and I swore I saw some panelling falling off the side of the house. I’ll be done before dinner, I promise.” Before her mother could insist she stay inside and not overwork herself, Kit turned on a heel and high tailed it out of the kitchen. Her mother sighed, shaking her head.

“She always thinks she has to save the world. Or make up for lost time. I worry for her.”

“It’s kind of funny-” Emily’s voice softened. The velvety dough evened out with each push of her rolling pin. She thought back to every moment over the last few months when Kit would remind her to take care of herself. And the times when she took it upon herself to be a knight in shining armor. “She’s told me the same thing. More than once, actually. I was sick when she brought me home to her cabin.”

“Poor thing.” Mrs. Acker touched her wrist, her fingers ice cold and damp. Her eyes drooped sympathetically. “She didn’t tell me you were sick. I know about your mother - was it the stress?”

“Probably.” Emily laid her own flour dusted hand over hers and offered a reassuring smile. “I was working myself seven days a week ever since my mama passed. Just trying to keep my mind off everything. I couldn’t bring myself to go home most nights - she caught me sleeping on a bag of potatoes.” She snickered, though Mrs. Acker looked thoroughly horrified at the idea. Chewing her lip, she set her rolling pin aside and carefully took up the sides of the biscuit dough with gentle fingers. “I couldn’t look at my mama’s things. I was supposed to move into the apartment above Mr. Matthew’s drugstore. He’s like an uncle to me, always helping mama and I out.”

Laying the dough into a fresh sprinkling of flour, Emily picked up the old jam jar she chose as her biscuit cutter. “Losing someone can bring out the worst in people. Some people discover they’ve lost part of themselves when a loved one passes. Some find god.” She took a deep breath. To her surprise, this was the first time she was able to speak on her grief without crying. “Some make themselves sick or lash out at others.”

A pensive ‘oh’ left Mrs. Acker. She had taken to idly stirring the poupperie. The warm scent wafted through the kitchen, overpowering the turkey roasting in the oven. “My kids.” Emily glanced up from her work. A disheartened expression painted her soft features. “When their Pops died, I don’t think they knew what to do with themselves. They were grown, sure, but life doesn’t prepare you to lose your anchor. I just wish I could have done something to make it easier on them. There are days I feel like I failed them.” Her voice weakened to a croak. She turned her head up, blinking back tears.

“But you’re doing exactly what they needed.” Emily abandoned her biscuits, her heart rate picking up. The last thing she wanted was to upset Kit’s mother. She sidled up beside her, touching a shoulder as gently as her daughter would hold her on those cold nights in the cabin. “You’re loving them. Kit’s here because of your love. Because she knows you care about her.” The corners of Mrs. Acker’s lips turned upward, just a touch. “She always looks forward to your packages and phone calls. It’s just…”

“The boys.” Dark eyes met hers knowingly. “They were cruel to her. Though, I know she was the first one to get in their faces. Their dynamic has always been volatile. They always thought they knew better than her, and of course she was quick to prove them wrong every time.” Mrs. Acker’s lips pursed into a thin line across her face. “Without their Pops, they were bound to butt heads over the company.”

“I can understand where they’re coming from.” Emily draped an arm over her shoulder and leaned into a hug. “I told myself a few months ago that if I could just keep the diner up and running in tip top shape, it would somehow make up for the things my mama never got to do. That it would preserve her memory somehow.”

“No one should have to bear the weight of that after a loss. I’ve never seen Rodney so stressed before. Even without their sister there, the two of them manage to get into the loudest arguments in the office.” The glass lid for the decorative pie stand clinked as Mrs. Acker lifted it carefully with both hands. “I hope for Kit’s sake, that they can finally learn to forgive. To figure out a way to work together again. And I hope Kit stays, at least for a little while tonight.”

“Something tells me she will.” Emily smiled at her, noticing a bundled up Kit just outside the kitchen window over the sink. Behind her, a small distance from the house, the red barn sat. Her nose was scrunched in concentration, the gloves missing from her hands to help her grab onto a loose piece of siding off the back porch. She admired the way her soft cheeks turned pink in the cold air.

For how destructive losing someone could be, there was always something beautiful to come out of it at the end of the tunnel. Emily hoped Kit would find it there, just as she had with her mama’s Christmas Angel. As long as everything went smoothly that evening, she expected to hear laughter before they left town.

-

“Mom?”

The stairs creaked under Kit’s old dress shoes. She dug them out from the depths of her closet and gave them as good of a shine as she could muster. The outfit she wore hugged her a bit tighter than it did when she last wore it. The green tweed vest still buttoned, giving her a bit more curve around her hips. The crisp white shirt she wore underneath had never been worn before. In fact, she didn’t know who it actually belonged to. If she had to take a guess she assumed it was supposed to be one of her brother’s.

Kit messed with the red bowtie she found in her old prom attire. It was a tangled mess. She smoothed over what she believed could have been the end of the tie with a thumb. The silky fabric didn’t quite go with the vest, but she would manage.

In the kitchen near the end of the stairs, Emily and Mom both finished off the table setting with the finest silverware in the house next to the mismatched porcelain plates. Mom looked up at the sound of her voice, her eyes lighting up. “You combed your hair,” she cooed, looking right giddy in her cheesy Christmas sweater. The bells stitched onto the knit tree jingled as she hurried around the table to give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

Kit chuckled, running the back of her hand over the damp spot she left behind. She looked just past her mom at Emily. The red dress she wore looked beautiful on her. It draped over her delicate frame, the white ruffles around the collar and hem adding a hint of something… adorable. As Mom helped her with the bowtie, she couldn’t take her eyes off of her. And, as it seemed, Emily couldn’t stop looking at her either with her eyes as wide as a deer in headlights and her cheeks redder than Santa's hat.

“There.” Mom patted Kit on the shoulder and beamed at her for just a moment before horror struck her. “I forgot to put out the wreath!” She muttered something to herself about being forgetful, jingling out of the room to make sure everything was spic and span for the boy’s arrival.

Emily approached with languid strides, her smile brightening the kitchen. “How do I look?” Kit mused, standing up taller and puffing her chest out. Arms draped around her shoulders as Emily melted against her tweed vest. Without anyone else around, the tension in Kit’s chest eased. She wasted no time running her hands along Emily’s hips, circling them around to the small of her back and pulling her in closer.

“Beautiful,” she giggled. Her head leaned in, resting against hers. Blonde hair tickled Kit’s cheek. “Handsome, even, if you prefer it.”

“Both? I like both.” Their noses bumped against one another, lips nearly touching. Emily shuddered in her arms and her own breath caught in her throat. Kit’s hands dared to dip lower, nearly touching the curve of her backside. A soft noise that emitted from her sent her heart fluttering. Absolutely drunk on it, she tilted her head and planted a fevered kiss against Emily’s lips. One hand cradled the back of her neck while the other held her tight against her.

The passionate moment ended with the abrupt interruption of the doorbell ringing. Every muscle in Kit’s body went rigid and she sighed against the lip between hers. Emily pulled away, gingerly cupping her cheeks with soft hands. Her smile could cure many wounds.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you. We’re in this together.”

Nodding, Kit wanted nothing more than to stand there in the kitchen holding her all day. Just block out everything happening in the other room as her brothers were welcomed by Mom’s shrill greetings. Swallowing the curse trying to crawl out of her throat, she dove back in and stole another kiss from Emily with a half smile. “Together.”

-

Three unfamiliar faces crowded the entryway, peeling off thick layers and wet shoes so they wouldn’t track mud in on the freshly mopped floors. Mrs. Acker took each jacket handed to her and gleefully hung them on the old hooks according to each person’s initial. Two of them were unmistakably Kit’s brothers.

One brother stood tall and lean while the other, a tad shorter, had a broader body. They looked about what Emily expected. Kit shared the same nose as them and freckles. While one brother had the same auburn hair, the other was closer to a reddish brown with a hint of gray near the hairline that met his forehead. He looked so similar to the picture of Mr. Acker hung on the picture collage wall.

“Emily this one’s my middle child - Jude,” Mrs. Acker held the thinner of the two by the arm and led him over to her. He ducked his head politely, his scraggly beard hiding most of his mouth, though she assumed he was smiling at her by the way his eyes sparkled like Kit’s.

“Heard lots about you, miss Emily,” his voice was graveley and his hands work rough and cold. Emily offered him a cordial smile. Last thing she wanted to do was make a poor first impression with the Acker brothers. He dug his hands into his frayed jean pockets. Based on his faded Acker Logging flannel, he looked like he just finished work. Or perhaps he didn’t fuss too much over his appearance. His eyes lost that sparkle when they fell on Kit who had sidled up beside Emily. “Hey, skunk.”

“Jude.” Kit didn’t offer any invitation for warmth with the venom in her voice. Emily touched her arm, smoothing her fingers over the muscle in her bicep. 

“Kit.” She kept her voice soft and comforting as if soothing Nutmeg during a thunderstorm. The hand slid down, grasping at her clenched one. In an instant it relaxed and she slipped her fingers between hers with ease. Mrs. Acker looked between her youngest two with a tight smile.

“You’re the waitress, right? Heard you were making pie.” Jude’s shoulders hunched and he smiled down at his shoes. “I don’t go out to Greenwood very often, but I’ve seen that little diner before back when we got bussed over for football games.”

“Go Gophers,” Emily laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. Judge chuckled and shook his head, murmuring something about Greenwood’s poor choice in quarterback years back. “Kit’s been letting me stay with her over the last month or so, she’s been very kind to me this year.” A warm, furry object brushed against her leg and she looked down to see Nutmeg circling her feet in her knit Santa sweater. She parked herself protectively between her shoes, inspecting Jude. “And so has Nutmeg, of course.”

“Mighty kind of Kit to do that. You sure she didn’t have to hogtie and kidnap ya, right?” He winked and gave a throaty laugh.

“Uh-uh I romanced her the right way.” Though a smile hadn’t appeared on Kit’s face just yet, the smirk was enough to put Emily at ease. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. She smiled down at their feet and hugged her arm close. 

Jude shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Romance and all that never interested me much. But y’all look good together.”

“She’s been nothing but sweet since I met her. I love the way she holds doors open for me. She would never let me lift a finger if it was possible.” Though she put on a light layer of makeup for dinner, she just knew the heat flooding her cheeks would show through.

“And here I thought I was impressing you with my ax-wielding muscles and good looks. Or how good I am with my hands.” If the sly joke phased Jude, he merely cracked a smile like a worn out old man. Emily cleared her throat and glanced at Mrs. Acker helping a statuesque woman out of her plaid peacoat. By god was the stranger gorgeous. High cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass. Perfect full lips painted Christmas red and caramel hair that fell to her shoulders. Emily knew she was gay, but this was the first time a woman took her breath away since she watched Kit pull their tree into the cabin.

“You’ve got to meet my daughter Kit” Mrs. Acker patted the cashmere sweater sleeve of the woman, guiding her and the eldest Acker over to their huddle at the entrance to the living room.

An elbow bumped Emily, sending her crashing back down to earth. Kit’s hand slipped out of hers and she wrapped her arm around her waist so she could lean in with a smile. “You know,” she whispered, lips dangerously close to Emily’s ear. Goosebumps prickled under the sleeves of her dress. “I bet I looked at you the same way you’re looking at her. Awestruck.”

Shoulders scrunched up to her ears and Emily’s head spun. Almost worried she had offended Kit, she turned her face to meet her knowing smirk and had to hold back a squeal of giddish laughter. Maybe that sparkle in her eyes was always awe. “Can you blame me?” An auburn curl fell against her forehead as she shook her head.

“Not at all.”

“Kit.” Jude shuffled back to let Rodney and what Emily presumed was his girlfriend through. Unlike his brother, he wore a crisp pair of slacks and the shiniest dress shoes she ever saw. Clean shaven, he kept his brown hair neatly shaped and gelled. There wasn’t an ounce of sheepishness in his posture or tone. No hint of ill intent, though no glint of love either. If she didn’t know they were siblings, she would have considered them acquaintances.

“Rodney. 

With the meeting of two opposing forces, all the air in the room felt as though it had been sucked out. A vacuum of tension and unease. The two Acker siblings stared each other down, neither yielding. Shoulder squared. Jaws set. Between Emily’s legs, Nutmeg whined and nudged her mother’s leg with her nose.

“Rodney, this is my girl Emily-” The hand resting on her waist made soft circles against her knit dress. Emily gave her best customer service smile and extended a hand. Rodney’s features softened a touch and he took her hand with a firm shake. Out of the two brothers, she had no doubts who made the executive decisions at Acker Logging.

“Emily, lovely to meet you.” At least his greeting for a guest was warmer. Disappointment swam in Emily’s stomach. If any family member treated her the way he treated Kit, she wouldn’t be pleased in the slightest. “You’ll have to forgive me, I didn’t know Kit was bringing a guest. My fiance and I only brought enough presents for a few of us.”

“It’s no problem, really-” Emily put a hand up to wave off his apparent concern.

“Don’t be silly, they can share the gift,” Rodney’s fiance insisted with a brilliant smile. She held up a farmer's market bag brimming with green foil wrapped gifts. Each one sticking out the top was adorned with a perfectly tied ribbon. “I’m Marla. I’ve heard a lot about you, Kit.”

“Good things I hope.” Although the current beef with her brothers remained, Kit was of course nothing but kind to the woman. Just as Emily knew she would be. She stepped forward, the arm leaving her waist for just a moment so she could lift Marla’s hand up to her lips. They ghosted against her knuckles, never lingering in hopes of making sure she was comfortable. The woman flashed her pearly whites.

“Heard you were quite the rambunctious kid when you were younger. Which is a good thing - Rodney needs to loosen up sometimes.” She patted Rodney’s arm and his lips twisted into a half smile. Emily wondered if he would have rolled his eyes if Mrs. Acker hadn’t been standing there starry eyed over her children.

“You could say that again.” Kit snorted, moving to stand behind Emily. Arms wrapped around her frame, a nose nuzzling against her shoulder. Before Rodney could retort, their mother stepped in with a sing-song voice.

“Let’s get those presents under the tree, shall we? Jude, would you be a dear and fetch the throw blankets from the linen closet - oh, and Rodney I need you to carry in a gift from the McPhearson’s. I completely forgot about it in the car.” She held on to one of the handles of the farmer’s market bag and led Marla over to the fragrant pine tree. The men scattered, leaving Kit and Emily in the hall.

“Well, he hasn’t been too rude.” Emily sighed, swaying side to side. Her eyes closed for a moment. The warmth of Kit’s body sank into her.

“Yet.”

“It’s a start.” She turned her head to give the cuddly lumberjane a pointed look. “And we can still run if we need to. Bonnie and Clyde.”

Kit chuckled, warm breath tickling the back of her neck. “Ain’t quitting yet. Besides, I want to show you off a little bit more.” The arms around her squeezed before a hand slipped into hers. They separated just enough for Emily to twirl in a circle with a giggle. They both may have gawked a little at Marla, but it tickled her that her sweet, handsome Kit only had eyes for her.

-

With the presents in their home under the tree and frosted windows lit up by the soft white lights of the Christmas lights hung outside, the Acker family and their guests were ready to dig in. Kit, however, no matter how many pep talks she gave herself, would much rather sit dinner out just so she wouldn’t have to sit with her brothers. Not even the temptation of ham and fresh biscuits could stop her stomach from bubbling uneasily. 

“Allow me,” Kit hummed, moving around Emily to pull her chair out for her. Her dinner date beamed at her, smoothing out her soft dress and easing into her seat. Once settled, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Kit spotted Rodney watching them like an owl perched in a dark wood. She hopped into her own chair, thankful that Mom and Emily flanked her. It would be harder to launch the mashed potatoes at one of the dumbasses this way. She found herself watching her brother. Noticing how he also pulled Marla’s chair out for her before taking his place in Pop’s former spot. Heat like burnt sugar spilled into her veins. Of course he would take that cherished spot as his own.

Whether it was the way her shoulders tensed or the hand that pinched a wrinkle in her jeans, Emily sensed her frustrations. One of those soft hands of hers slipped over her thigh. It drew soft circles against it before cupping the inside near her own hand. Kit melted and god how she wished they could be alone for just a little while. To feel her fingers along her bare skin.

“Rodney, would you pray over the food?” Mom asked, shifting in her seat beside her daughter so she could hold her free hand. The family bowed their heads.

Kit wasn’t much of a Christian, not since realizing she liked women all the way back in middle school. Praying wasn’t exactly an extracurricular activity of hers. Not even in her darkest moments. So with her eyes closed and head bowed to be polite, she released the fabric she pinched between her fingers and blindly reached under the table. Her hand met a silky soft knee. She heard Emily suck in a surprised breath. Smirking, she let her hand venture upwards as Rodney continued his droning prayer.

The hand at her own thigh twitched, giving her a playful squeez. Emily shuddered under her languid fingers. Though their game was a welcome distraction from the tension between siblings, Kit knew she couldn’t tease her too much or else the others would notice. So her hand paused halfway up her thigh. Her thumb smoothed over her skin in a comforting gesture.

“Amen.”

Kit withdrew her hand so as to not tip anyone off to her teasing and lifted her head. She murmured a late ‘amen’. Mom squeezed her other hand with a smile before reaching for the large fork laying beside the ham.

“Kit, you should go first since you haven’t had a proper holiday dinner in ages.” 

“No, mom, you should go first-” Rodney interjected. His brows knit together, the icy chill returning to his gaze. Anger shot flames though Kit’s stomach. “You’re the one who made all of this.” She wanted to snip at him. Yell, even. If Pops was around, he would have smacked him on the back of the head for having such an attitude in front of Mom. 

Looking to the stilled hands still holding the ham fork, Kit didn’t even need to see her face to know she was shocked. “Emily helped me,” Mom murmured, cautious. “It’s really not a big deal, Rod.”

Swallowing the petty jab, Kit took a deep breath to clear the heavy air that weighed on her. It wasn’t about being served first. She didn’t care in the least who ate first and who didn’t. But she came home to make Mom happy and keep her company - no one else. Well, aside from Emily. 

“No, mom, he’s right you should go first. Here-” Kit stood and leaned over the cheerful painted plates to gingerly take the silverware from her. The smile she offered her was met with silent relief. Though she didn’t want to come off as a show-off, especially given how quickly things turned into a competition in the Acker household, she expertly sliced a generous amount of the glossy ham and piled it into a corner of mom’s plate. 

“Care for some ham, doll?” Kit winked at Emily who nodded with an easy grin. Years of customer service must have given her nerves of steel. She herself became all too aware of two pairs of eyes boring into her. Once her guest was given her fill, she looked up at Marla who flashed her teeth in a wide smile. “Marla, would you like some?”

“I can do it.” Rodney’s chair scraped against the floor. It rang in Kit’s ears and made Emily flinch beside her. He picked up his fiance’s plate and circled over to bulldoze her out of the way. She had little time to enjoy his bruised ego before she caught him grumbling under his breath. “Least you know how to follow directions now.”

Without thinking a fruitless bark of a laugh left Kit. He reared his head back and she put her hands on her hips like she was about to chastise Nutmeg for eating her share of bacon. “Pot calling the kettle black now, huh?”

“Kit.” Emily reached around Rodney to touch the back of her hand. Her voice softer than snowfall. Her brother glared over his shoulder, lines forming between his brows and around his mouth. It made him look older than he was. Maybe it was stress or perhaps simply because being a douchebag could age a man.

“Really, Kit? You’re gonna do this on Christmas again? And ruin it for mom all over again?” He lowered the silverware and stood up straighter than he had all evening. If he was trying to make himself big and bad, it didn’t help that he only stood a few inches taller than Kit. She felt her own shoulders roll back and her adrenaline kicking in. Though she promised herself she wouldn’t sling potato salad for Emily’s sake, she wasn’t going to let her brother kick her around like an abused puppy.

“Rodney-” Both Marla and Mom gasped in unison.

“That’s grand coming from you, buddy. I would have thought you would be a gentleman.” She looked past him to a stunned Marla. “Marla, I’m so sorry.” The tender spot had been pressed. Silverware clattered against the silver serving tray and he advanced on her. Kit only budged enough to coax him away from where Emily sat on the edge of her seat. “Oh, are you going to hit me again, Rod? Just like you did last time?”

“Christ almighty, Kit, stop egging him on!” Jude finally snapped, standing to join his siblings. Whether he wanted to push them apart or join in was unclear, but it put Kit on edge.

“Tell ‘im to keep his trap shut, then!”

“You three will NOT be doing this in my kitchen! Not this year-” Mom’s voice cut through the commotion. All three heads snapped in her direction, taking in the sight of her red flushed face and tearful eyes. Kit couldn’t remember the last time she sounded this angry. Jabbing her finger at the back door, she waved the three of them with her free hand. “I’m about sick and tired of this. Out! You three are gonna settle this like adults. Without hitting each other like toddlers.”

Immediately the three of them took a step back from one another. Mom parted them like the red sea, leading the way to the back door. A shoulder checked Kit’s as the boys walked behind her like sullen ducklings and she scoffed. 

“That was uncalled for, Rodney Acker.” She heard Marla whisper as she trailed along behind the oldest Ackers. Nutmeg growled at Rodney, chasing after him for a short moment before being called back to her mother with a whistle.

Kit took a second to collect herself, running her hands over her face and blowing out hot air. Her hands shook against her cheeks. The sound of feet crunching towards the barn out back left her with somber silence. The warm body of sweet Nutmeg leaned against her calf. When she finally brought herself to look up, Emily was still seated with her face pale and eyes as wide as dinner plates. Turns out guilt hurt more than forgiveness.


	11. Forgiveness

“Baby.” Kit dropped to her knees in front of her, hands grasping at hers in an attempt to ground her. Emily looked down at her in a daze, a sob swelling in her throat and threatening to make her crumple into a puddle of tears. Taking a shaky breath, she dug her teeth into her lip, tasting her vanilla flavored lip tint. Auburn brows formed a crease between them. “I’m so sorry for letting him get the better of me. I shouldn’t have egged him on like that.”

Emily hiccuped and shook her head. She leaned in until her forehead touched Kit’s. “He’s the one who escalated it. I thought he was going to hurt you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if he started throwing a fist at you-”

“I refuse to let that happen. Not in front of you. Here-” Kit shifted away, using dexterous fingers to undo the buttons of her vest until it fell loose. As she slipped her arms through, she pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. “Let’s get you a coat. Mom’s gonna have us sort this out in the barn.” 

Emily’s forehead wrinkled but she let her guide her out of her chair and towards the coats lining the entryway. “The barn?”

“Pops used to do this to get us to sort out our squabbles when we were little.” Kit plucked one of the Kindred Logging jackets off a hook and came up behind Emily. The scent of Old Spice and cinnamon enveloped her. All the baking she did back at the cabin had already settled into their clothes. The thought of what the cabin would smell like after a while of living together - even if she didn’t plan on burdening Kit for that long. Vanilla and pine danced in her head as she watched her pull off the silk bow tie and roll the sleeves of her white dress shirt.

“Please tell me it’s not fisticuffs.” Emily snorted, huddling into the jacket like a red bird burrowed in its nest. Nutmeg followed them, her head swishing to and fro, checking the perimeters for the Acker brothers or any other hostiles.

“Definitely not.” Kit touched a finger under her chin, a faint smirk on her lips. She kissed her cheek. “Though, I’m sure you probably wouldn’t mind seeing me get rough and tough a little.”

“Not if I’m going to have to patch you up afterwards and fret over you like a mother hen all night.” Her face tightened and she could tell by the way her brown eyes studied her that the anxiety was plainly etched on her face. Though still determined to throw herself between the siblings if she had to, Emily had never had to be around men so aggressive. Not even at the diner.

“I’ll stick to hauling trees. As long as you kiss my booboos when I get a splinter.”

“Tease.”

Kit led the way out the back door, shutting the door securely behind them to not let the kitchen floors get wet with stray snow. Nutmeg scratched at the door, begging to be let out. “It’s too dark out here, baby girl!” she called back, her mother and Marla’s coats draped over an arm. Despite having no jacket of her own, the cold didn’t seem to bother her. An arm wrapped around Emily to keep her upright. 

Thick clouds hung in front of the low moon. The light bounced off the acres of snow. It crunched under her converse, seeping in through the holes she wore into the soles. Warm light from the barn beckoned them in. She caught the whiff of goats and horses the closer they got to it.

The barn stood sturdy and bigger than Emily initially thought. The double doors towered over her. Chickens squawked from their coop and goats bleated at the couple as they joined the others. The thick wooden walls provided some much needed protection from the cold and the two horses watched the two of them curiously from their warm stalls under an electric space heater.

“-Yes all of them!” Mrs. Acker stood near the other end of the barn where the large wall held all of their old farming tools. Pitchforks, shovels and some tools that looked antique enough to be on one of those roadshows on public television. She put her hands on her hips and watched the men as they dragged three beat up wooden targets into a line along the wall, safely away from all the animals. They may have been the owners and lead managers of the logging company, but at home she dished out orders as any mother would. 

Marla stood beside her, her head turning with the approach of the stragglers. She gave Emily a sympathetic smile, the apples of her cheeks a faint pink from the cold. The highlighter she wore sparkled under the warm lights overhead. “Is this the first time you’re seeing them in action??”

“Action? What are they doing?” Emily moved to stand beside her when the arm around her waist disappeared. 

“Ax throwing.” Kit passed out the two extra coats to the other women. Before she left to fetch a crate full of old hatchets and axes, she kissed her cheek with a half smile About a dozen ax handles of varying color and age stuck out from the top. Emily watched her for a little longer than intended, following the muscle that dimpled her soft, freckled forearm.

“Sometimes I think the only reason the three of them didn’t kill each other when they were younger was because their pops had them focus their frustrations on something else,” Mrs. Acker sighed, joining them a safe distance away from where the three Acker siblings. Clearing her voice, she stated the rules. “Remember, the only person that gets to talk is the one holding the ax. You will lose your turn if you speak out of line and have to wait until the next round. Now shake hands.”

Emily held her breath. So it began.

-

With the rules set, Kit kicked the toe of her dress shoe into the damp packed dirt beneath her, arms crossed tightly around her. It was tradition and cordial to shake before a match, especially in games like this where the goal was to get to the bottom of how each person felt about the situation at hand. Even if they hated each other’s guts in the moment. 

Jude stuck his hand out to her first. Kit didn’t hesitate to take it and give him a firm shake. He bent his head towards her politely before offering Rodney the same gesture. The oldest of the three of them flattened his lips into a thin line across his face, offering her a stone cold stare. She faltered, for just a moment, remembering that same look years ago before he escalated their argument. But she shook his hand anyway and looked to Mom for the okay to start. Emily drew her eye, though, with her gentle smile and encouraging nod.

“Rodney, how about you start.”

Rodney stooped down with a grunt, one of his joints clicking and his hips stiffer than a nutcracker. He picked out his favorite axe. The one Pops used to use to get kindling on cold nights when they were small. Sighing, he didn’t look up at Kit.

“I’m really disappointed with how we left things, Kit.” He passed the handle between his hands. Getting a feel of the weight. The old thing looked as rickety as the shingles Kit worked on earlier. “The last Christmas you were here and all. You know, as your big brother I’m always going to want what’s best for you-” His dark eyes finally met hers and she twisted her mouth to keep a retort at bay. “And at the time I didn’t think Acker Logging was good for you. I wanted you to have a family. A life outside of work boots and logging.”

Turning on his heel, Rodney lined up his shot. Kit and Jude shuffled back just to be safe. He went with an underhanded shot. The metal caught the glint of the light fixtures overhead as it twisted in the air and landed in the thick wood with a hearty thunk. Out of her peripheral she noticed Emily flinch. She wished she could have shown her ax throwing before it was used for family disagreements.

Jude went next, picking up another axe from the crate. He scratched at his scraggly beard with a kinder gleam in his eye than the eldest. “We both thought we knew what would be better for you, skunk. Thought you would’ve loved a chance to go to school and have that college experience neither of us had - especially since Pops dying really took a toll on you. You could have had a chance to be anything you wanted, like a teacher or lawyer.” His beard twitched, turning up at the corner of his lip. “You always were good at arguin’.” 

The next throw wasn’t nearly as precise as Rodney’s. Jude tossed his axe like it was a sack full of twigs. It caught the corner of his target and teetered. “Arm going bad, Jude?” Rodney snorted, patting him on the back.

Kit wasted no time choosing her axe. She picked old faithful - one with a dulling blade and a rused pink and white handle. The first one she ever got at the tender age of 7. Back when Pops thought she would be obsessed with anything pink or sparkly. Her thumb circled over a hand etched date along the wooden end of the handle. Christmas of ‘02. The nostalgia lingered the same way the smell chocolate chip cookies lingered in the air long after they were devoured.

The world slowly melted back into view and Kit’s stomach churned with fresh pain. “First of all - do you two honestly believe I would be happy at some college on the other side of Oregon? Or be satisfied becoming some bigshot lawyer working for uptight clients?” Cold sweat dripped down her back and she had to swallow a wave of anger. “I was happy here, dumbasses-”

“Language.” Mom’s voice interjected. Kit murmured an apology and lifted her head to look her brothers square in the eyes.

“I loved working with Pops and this company more than anything in the world. When he left, logging was all I had left. Don’t you understand that? To lose everything you love? Everything that felt like a part of your identity?” Her nose wrinkled and she had to pause before another myriad of curses could fly out of her mouth. “And Rod - you don’t need kids to have a family. And you don’t need a husband or a baby to be a woman.”

Kit had an aggressive approach to ax throwing. She turned on the balls of her feet and gripped the pink handle with the tips of her fingers. It was all in the wrist, she learned. In one hard, swift motion her ax flew into her target, hitting the line just outside the center. 

“Woo-” A small cheer chimed from behind her. Emily bounced on her toes, clapping her hands together shyly. Kit smiled at the way her borrowed coat made her look like a character in a holiday special, collar up to her cheeks and her hands hidden under the sleeves. 

“Sure. You don’t need all those things to be a woman. But having a family could be a source of happiness that you’ve been missing. You looked miserable, Kit-” Rodney already had his next axe in hand. The lines between his brows made another appearance, this time joined by his clenched jaw. “I’d hear you crying in the break room but you never came to me. I would watch you sit on the porch for hours whittling and sulking in Pop’s rocking chair. You needed something new to get you back to normal - that’s why we cut your hours back then. That’s why I told you on Christmas while you were on a break from work that you would need to find something else to do.”

“You can’t just fire someone like that, you asshat-”

“Kit, you’ve lost your turn.” Mom’s sympathetic gaze softened the authoritative tone. A ripple of frustration coursed through Kit’s body and she hung her head so she didn’t have to see any sign of disappointment on Emily’s face. Though, she doubted an angel such as her would judge her too harshly for letting her emotions get the better of her. She sniffled before forcing her head back up pridefully. 

“If you had stayed and listened, Kit, you would’ve known I wasn’t firing you, dang it.” He raked a hand through his thinning hair and rolled his eyes like a disgruntled teenager. Not much had changed since their younger years. “I just wanted to give you a break.” Kit struggled to hold her tongue. It wasn’t worth losing another turn because of her spitfire reaction to being disrespected. 

Rodney took his turn, managing to hit near the center of his target. Jude went next with a heavy sigh. If he didn’t want to be there having this conversation, she didn’t know why he continued. But she had to give him credit - Rodney probably wouldn’t have had such a civil conversation if it weren’t for Mom’s interference.

“We wanted you to take a break, skunk. Let you breathe and grieve. And you just had to go punch Rod because y’all were getting riled up.” With a halfhearted stance, he tossed his axe underhanded and shrugged when it bounced off the board. It landed in some loose hay that littered the barn floor between the goats and the stables.

Kit crossed her arms and, for the first time since their arrival, tore her attention away from her brothers. She didn’t want them to see the tears welling along her bottom lash. On one hand, the realization that they weren’t firing her but instead handing a family ordeal poorly comforted her in a way. Of course she grew up thinking - knowing - her brothers loved her and did try their best to look out for her. But the sting of remembering what came of that Christmas dinner still hurt like salt in a fresh wound.

Patiently awaiting her turn, Rodney picked up his last axe and held it in both hands as if pondering his life choices up until this moment. “You know… I’m sorry, Kit.” Her head snapped up and she cocked a brow. The hard set of his jaw softened and he looked like he did that one time when they were young and he left her alone on the backroads of Highchapel. “I’m sorry I didn’t take into consideration how you felt. That I didn’t just ask you instead of pushing you out. I’m sorry if I made you feel anything less than a woman worthy of respect. It ain’t easy working in this industry and… I let you down.”

Teeth nibbled on the inside of Kit’s cheek. She felt breathless in the moment. In all the imaginary confrontations she had with her brothers while away, none of them ever ended with them actually apologizing. She let out a sharp breath, quickly using the back of her wrist to swipe at a pesky tear that slipped down her cheek. 

Needing that gentle reassurance, she looked to Emily who had nothing but kindness in her eyes. Her chin crumpled. If she were the one comforting her, she would have gently teased her about looking like a muppet in the moment. But she smiled at her and her lips moved without a sound.

‘It’s okay.’

Rodney’s axe hit the ground with a dull thud. A sign of conceding to their competition. He kicked around a lump of hardened mud with the toe of his nice shoes and cracked his neck. Jude casually stooped down for his last axe. It dangled beside him.

“And I’m sorry I didnt help you, skunk. At any point, really. Not when you and Rod got into it. Not when you left. Hell, I didn’t even help you when Pop’s died. I felt lost, too, in a way.” There was a hint of tears behind his dark lashes. His nose crinkled with a sniff and he tossed his ax back into the bucket with one languid flick of his arm.

With her turn up next, Kit took her sweet time. She needed to process everything they just told her. The ax weighed heavily in her hands as if it carried all the burdens of her life after Pop’s death. Not just his loss, but the rift that formed in their family afterwards. She stared at its old, wooden handle and rusting metal head. Pop’s initials were carved into it and a date that she guessed was an anniversary for her parents. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to fully forgive you, Rod.” An ache knotted in Kit’s chest. “Not yet. I still have a lot to think about, and I hope you know-” she lifted her eyes and met his softened gaze. “That you can talk to me, ya know? Instead of making decisions for me. I’ve made my own way at Kindred, rose through the ranks, and I’ve been doing alright on my own so far. I’m not a child anymore.”

“You have done a pretty good job, I oughta say.” Jude rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve driven by that old cabin whenever I make trips out east. You’ve kept it up all nice, just like Pop’s left it.”

“It feels empty most of the time, though.” Kit half shrugged, sniffling again and swiping her arm across her eyes with a free hand. “Until Emily came along, of course. It’s never felt more like home.” It seemed every eye in the room turned to look at Emily. Her eyes widened and her chin sank into the collar of her borrowed jacket like a shy turtle. She wrung her hands together, taking a hesitant step forward. 

Kit grinned at her, extending an arm to welcome her. Emily trotted over and melted into her in an instant. She fit perfectly in her arm, carrying the scent of warm spice and sweetness. Kit stuck her nose against her shoulder, holding her tight. The gentle arms that draped around her shoulders was a sensation she could dwell in for ages.

“Kit.” Emily’s voice was just a whisper. It wavered like a candle catching a light breeze, flickering and delicate. Pulling her face away, she tilted her head up to meet her lips in a quick peck. Although Emily smiled, her eyes welled with tears of her own.

Their small moment was intruded when a stout frame came into view. Rodney stood before the two of them with a hand extended to Kit and that same business-like expression he wore in meetings at Acker Logging. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I would like to shake on committing to finding a middle ground one day. To move forward from here on out.

Kit slipped her arm away from Emily’s waist and grasped his hand with a firm grip. She gave a nod of solidarity. “To a better future. And Rodney, I’m sorry for throwing creamed corn at your head last time I saw you.”

“And I’m sorry for throwing a punch. Wasn’t right of me to do.”

By the time they stepped back from one another, everyone had joined into the huddle. Mom choked back tears and Jude slipped an arm around her shoulders to hold her close with a smile. Marla moved around Rodney to give Kit the tightest squeeze. Her perfume enveloped her and her hair tickled her nose as she hugged her with one arm.

“I’m so glad I got to be here for this.” Marla straightened up with a brilliant white smile. She cradled Rodney’s face and kissed him the same way every woman in a Hallmark Christmas movie did. Her leg popped and the pair looked like they were made for each other.

“I’m glad I came home, too.” The sickening anxiety that plagued her for the past two days began to disperse. A deep warmth replaced it, one that she hadn’t experienced since she and Emily began exchanging glances soft touches. Kit held her ax out to Mom. “Would you do the honors of ending this match, Mom?”

The brothers hyped her up, patting her on the shoulder far more gentle than they did Kit. Mom took the ax graciously and lined up to face the center target. Kit looped her arms around Emily with a chuckle, pulling her away so she would be safe. She squirmed in her arms and giggled, telling her it tickled. Everyone watched as Mom gave a few test swings before throwing it in one large arche.

With a thunk, the ax landed dead center. Emily threw her arms up and cheered with Jude. Rodney and whistled and clapped. Mom spun around in a circle and gave a bow, her tears finally ebbd and her smile as bright as ever.

“Now let’s get back before the food turns to ice. Come along!” Mom led the way towards the barn doors. A fresh snow began to fall, dotting the sky and dancing slowly to the piles already on the ground. Kit let the others go ahead of them before spinning Emily around to enjoy a second of solitude. 

“I’m glad you convinced me to come home this year. I mean it. You’ve made my world feel light again.” She took her hands into hers, bringing them up to her lips so she could kiss the backs of them. Emily giggled, her chin quivering again.

“And I’m glad I didn’t have to spend this year alone.” She squeezed Kit’s hands, ducking her head down to give her a real kiss. That warmth in her belly spread to every finger and toe. Everything would be alright, after all.


	12. Making It Official

The mood in the Acker home shifted. Emily shuffled through the door Kit held open for her. The warmth and coziness of the kitchen enveloped her and she took a deep breath to take in the scent of their meal still lying in wait for them in perfect condition. The Acker family sounded like a flock of chickens, cracking jokes and shedding their outdoor gear to get comfortable again. 

Hands brushed over Emily’s shoulders and she didn’t even have to think about slipping her arms out of the borrowed jacket. Kit kissed her behind her ear as she peeled the jacket off. “Let’s get you some cider before the cold sticks to you, yeah?”

“That sounds perfect.” Emily rubbed her ice cold hands together in an attempt to warm them. Nutmeg trotted up to her with her ears at attention and her pink tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. Giggling, she stooped down to give her scritches. “See? Everything’s alright now, sweet girl.” The pup spun in a circle and propped her front paws up on Emily’s knees. She ran her thumbs through the fur of her cheeks and cooed at her.

“Someone’s happy.” For the first time all evening, a wide smirk graced Kit’s darling face. She nursed a mug of steaming cider, a hand knit koozie encased the ceramic to protect her hands from getting burnt. 

“I think she’s relaxed when you’re relaxed. Smiles look cute on the both of you.” Emily stood up with a wistful sigh and gingerly took the cider. Heat seeped through the knit fibers, warming her numb finger tips. “Thank you, I needed this.” She leaned in, giving her a smooch on the cheek.

“Food’s getting cold, lovebirds,” Rodney joshed them, taking his place back next to the plethora of entrees. Kit pulled Emily’s chair out for her and they settled in for their dinner, not minding that it had cooled down while they settled things outside.

“Mind passing the corn? I promise not to throw it at your head,” Kit cackled, her voice as calm as a stoic pine. Emily slipped her hand under the table, touching her thigh. It wasn’t tight this time around. The rigid stance in her shoulders eased and a dimple sank into her cheek. Calloused fingers gently wrapped around hers.

Dinner continued without a hitch. Conversation remained lighthearted, filled with memories of the Acker family’s childhoods, farm work, and of course wedding plans. Emily listened intently, enthused by the way Marla beamed at Rodney and the way he stole kisses when they thought no one was watching them. Her preconceived notions about him dismantled little by little. She still didn’t trust him, not fully, but the affection the couple exuded rolled off of them in the same way sweet caramel oozed out of a deluxe apple pie.

By the time they moved on to dessert, Emily and Kit worked side by side dishing out slices of her homemade pies. She cut them with expert ease, plating them and drizzling a bit of caramel around the golden crust. Kit took charge of the forks and whipped cream. At some point, the small dessert plates began to pile up due to her other half slacking on her job. Emily set the aluminum foil back over her pie to keep the crust from getting too dry and raised a brow at the three plates that had yet to receive their portion of whipped cream.

“Thief!” She teased. Kit’s head turned, her dark eyes wide and cheeks stuffed like a squirrel. A smear of whipped cream sat on her bottom lip and nose. Emily burst into a fit of laughter, reaching for her face to cup her jaw. Leaning in, she kissed her and let her tongue glide along her lips to clean her up. A stifled moan muffled against her mouth and she winked at Kit before kissing the whipped cream off her nose. “There. All clean now.”

A ruddy red color filled her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears that stuck out from her now unruly auburn locks. At some point, all that combing Kit had done fell apart. Emily adored the way her curls reappeared. 

“You know I can’t help myself. Guess Rodney and Jude would like some, too-” She feigned annoyance, smirking over her shoulder at her brothers who perked up at the sound of their names. “I guess.”

“Seems a sweet tooth runs in the family.” Marla flashed a brilliant smile, graciously accepting her serving of apple pie from Emily. Caramel hair had been swept back into an elegant, yet messy bun on the top of her head to keep food out of it.

“I’ve been tallying Kit’s pie consumption when she comes into my diner. I think the most she’s ever eaten in one day was at least 5. She’s my guinea pig for new recipes.”

“Mom, you have to try Emily’s pretzel crust some time.” Kit set Mrs. Acker’s plate down in front of her before serving Jude. She beamed like a proud hen. “My mouth’s watering just thinking about it. The sweet n’ salty ratio is perfect, especially if it’s got chocolate in it.”

“I still don’t have all the measurements just right.” Emily cast her eyes to the floor with a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She wanted to try a pretzel strawberry pie in the summer when the berries would be at their freshest. “But maybe next time we come over, I can make y’all one to try. Maybe even my mama’s favorite chess pie.”

Everyone went quiet for a moment, enjoying their first bite of dessert, save for Kit who came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist affectionately. Emily leaned into her and glanced about the table. Every single person seated chewed. Marla broke the short silence with a hum of satisfaction. She dabbed her napkin along her flawless lipstick. “You know what would be perfect at our wedding next spring?” She leaned her elbows on the table, balancing her chin against her knuckles with a bright gleam in her eye. “Pie instead of a traditional cake.” She looked to Rodney, batting her lashes. “Don’t you think?”

He hadn’t finished chewing the second bite he took before nodding slowly. “I always hated that gummy shit people put on their cakes.” He had to speak around the food in his mouth and Mrs. Acker gave him the same treatment she did her daughter.

“Language, Rod.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“You would really want that?” Emily touched a hand to her chest. Something like catering had never crossed her mind while running the diner. Sure, she made pies for customers who called ahead, but she never considered doing specialty orders for weddings. She could imagine the spread now - a dozen of her best pies on some pretty lace tablecloths. Guests asking where they could find that little diner in Greenwood. Marla clasped her hands together and nodded.

“Absolutely. Everyone has their favorite pie. I adore raspberry pie. Rodney loves pecan. Do you think you could make-” she looked to him, murmuring numbers between them. “About a dozen? Maybe a dozen and a half? We’re pretty much inviting the whole company, no to mention both of our families.”

“And Kit.” Rodney looked up at the woman holding Emily so tenderly. He looked more like a kid asking his sibling to play rather than an adult who ran a thriving company. Hesitating, he quickly added on. “If you want to, of course.” Marla nodded in agreement, casting a hopeful smile at the two women.

Emily turned her head, her cheek brushing against Kit’s. An answer didn’t arrive right away. They swayed where they stood for a moment. “As long as you don’t mind me wearing a suit.”

“‘Course not,” Rodney snorted, poking at his pie with the end of his fork. “I think you’d look pretty silly wearing one of the bridesmaids dresses. You never liked frills much. Don’t think I’ve seen you wear a dress since… well, hell I don’t know when. Christmas service years ago?”

“Prolly when she was in middle school.” Jude cackled, shaking his head. “Remember that one Easter sunday, Mom, when Kit wore that frilly dress you had to wrestle her in?” Mrs. Acker sighed dramatically and nodded with a nostalgic smile.

“You mean the one she tore to shreds while hosting a fight club behind the church? Oh, I remember, alright.”

“It wasn’t a fight club.” Kit laughed against Emily’s shoulder. The noise rumbled in her chest, radiating into her back. “I just told you that so you wouldn’t know I was beating Robbie Richards up for looking up girls skirts.”

“That’s my Kit.” Mrs. Acker beamed. “Always looking out for the ladies in her life.”

Rodney turned his fork over between his fingers. “So you’ll come to our wedding?”

“If Emily’s there, I’ll be there.” Warm lips gave Emily a sloppy kiss at the space where her jaw connected to her ear. She crumpled and giggled girlishly, telling her it tickled too much. Squeezing her hands, she nodded.

“It’s a date.”

-

A plethora of colorful, patterned paper littered the floor of the living room. Nutmeg leapt from each swath of paper left untouched, crunching down on it with her paws before moving on to the next one. Mom laughed a joyful noise, filming the pup with her ipad.

“That’s my little grand-puppy!”

Jude and Rodney chuckled, tossing some of the felt toys Mom bought Nutmeg on the ground to see if they enticed her. She sniffed at a stuffed Christmas tree before abandoning it for a squeaky reindeer with googly eyes. A serenity that hadn’t been felt since Pop was alive fell over the room. Kit draped an arm across Emily’s shoulders, cuddling her close. They took up the beat up loveseat her family snatched on the side of the road back when the boys destroyed the old couch by practicing their wrestling moves on it. Her blonde head leaned against her shoulder, hands fiddling with the gift Marla and Rodney gave them.

It was a hand painted jar Marla decorated especially for Kit. A snowman with a crooked smile and a curled ribbon bow. She got the idea from a flea market and just had to try it out for herself, she told them. On the inside, Rodney filled it to the brim with roasted pecans they picked from their own front lawn. Emily picked through the pecans that sat at the top, looking for the ones with the most sugar dusted on them to pop into her mouth.

“Hm?” she hummed, holding one up to Kit’s lips. Despite being full of pie and ham, she took it between her teeth and chewed on it nice and slow to enjoy the sweet, nutty flavor. Her foot knocked against a shredded box Mom gave her filled to the brim with new wool socks and underwear she spent weeks researching for. They came from a lesbian-owned brand that made boxers specifically for women like her. It touched her that Mom spent all that time trying to find the very best for her homecoming.

“I hope you don’t mind the new converse, Emily,” Mom chimed, slumping back into Pop’s chair with a satisfied sigh. She used a single finger to scroll through Facebook to post Nutmeg’s video. “Kit was telling me you were starting to get holes in the soles - that certainly won’t do for working in the diner all day.”

“Oh, I love them.” Emily lifted her legs up from the pile of neatly torn wrapping paper. The brand new shoes fit her like a glove thanks to Kit’s secret detective work while she was showering one day. They were high tops with cushioned soles Mom bought separately. The best part was the soft mint color that matched Dana’s Diner perfectly. “It’ll be nice not getting leg cramps at the end of my shifts. Thank you, again, I don’t know how I could ever repay you, Mom.”

Mom’s eyes lit up brighter than all of her Christmas lights combined. For a moment, Kit thought she would burst into tears and rush over to squeeze Emily up in a tight hug. But instead, she bounced in Pop’s armchair and clapped her hands together. “There’s nothing to repay me for, I just knew your mama wouldn’t want you walking around in torn up shoes. I’m just happy you’re here.”

Emily melted against Kit, her body pressing as close as humanly possible. Her face pressed against the crook of her neck to hide either tears or a bashful smile. She laced her fingers into her honey hair, drawing circles against her scalp.

“Besides, you spoiled me with this new phone-” Kit patted the device sitting on her knee. It wasn’t the newest or most grand smartphone on the market, but it was better than looking at a cracked screen. Emily had even picked out a sturdy case to go with it. “This was almost too grand for me, babe.”

“Hopefully the case will keep it from getting destroyed,” she hummed, chewing idly on a sweet pecan.

“What did you get Emily, skunk?” Jude asked, messing with one of the glittery ornaments hanging lopsided on the tree. He eyed the gifts in front of them as if trying to pinpoint what she brought. Kit shifted, touching her pants pocket for that lump she had been keeping track of all evening.

“Actually, I haven’t given it to her yet. I wanted to do it in private.” The head pressed against her perked up, reminding her of Nutmeg when it was dinner time. Rodney groaned loudly, running his hands over his face.

“Ew, I don’t want to think about my little sister doing that.” Marla whacked him on the arm to which he cackled like a kid again. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Snorting, Kit moved her arm from around Emily’s shoulders and pushed herself up to a stand. A bit harder to do after eating enough food to last her all winter. Holding a hand out to her wide eyed guest, she gave her a wink just to watch the color bloom in her cheeks again. “Let’s go out to the porch, yeah?” Her smooth, silky hand laced its fingers with hers and she helped her up before leading her over to the coats.

Working like a well oiled machine, Kit helped her into her borrowed jacket before throwing her own on. Nutmeg trotted behind them, determined to follow them out. A gust of wind blew through the holes of the screen door as soon as she opened the main door. Emily hunkered down into the collar of her jacket and slipped by Kit when she opened the screen door for her. 

Once Nutmeg joined her on the porch, Kit closed the door behind them to keep the cold air from reaching her family in the living room. A light snowfall met cold earth like rain on a diner window. Gentle and quiet. The Christmas lights strung up around the porch railing provided them warm light. The sky had turned a creamy violet color with thick clouds hanging over snow covered trees.

“What’s so secret about your gift?” Emily asked. Her brows lifted, an excited grin plastered across her face. A small tinge of panic gripped Kit. She spent most of the day loathing seeing her brothers and now all the anxiety about her gift caught up with her right at that moment.

“Well… You know how you asked Mr. Matthews for that extension? On moving into that apartment in town?” Emily nodded, wisps of blonde hair blowing in her face. Kit patted down her pants pocket until she felt the smooth wood against her fingertips. She pulled it out and shifted her weight between her feet nervously. “I didn’t wrap it but- but, I was hoping you might be interested in staying with me a little longer. As my girlfriend.” 

She cupped her gift in her hands. That hunk of wood she found at her worksite about a month ago sat there. She took the time in their days spent together carving something especially for Emily. The wood had been molded into the shape of her cabin with the edge of her knife, including the windows and front door. On the bottom, she carved their initials ‘E + K’.

Emily’s smile dropped and she looked like she had seen a ghost. Kit braced herself for rejection - maybe now wasn’t the right time. How could she be stupid? Asking her something like this after such a stressful day?

To her luck, she finally lifted her hands to cover her mouth in shock. “Oh, Kit!” She nearly tripped over her own feet to shorten the space between them. Hands cupped Kit’s, glassy green eyes inspecting the house with her mouth gaping. “Yes, of course. You don’t know how long I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you the same thing.”

Relief spilled into Kit like warm hot cocoa. A goofy chuckle rumbled in her chest and her eyes began to sting. “Really? Great minds think alike, huh? C’mere-” She pressed the house into Emily’s palm before bringing her into a tight embrace. Cold fingertips grasped at her hot, flushed cheeks, guiding her lips to her own. Every toe curled in that moment. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Hands clutched at the front of her vest and Emily uttered a cheerful sigh.

They only broke the kiss when they both needed breath. Puffs of steam danced in the air and they stared at each other in awe for a second. “Now you won’t have to worry about eating burnt bacon in the mornings.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are ya?” Kit burst into a fit of laughter, pushing blonde hair out of her girlfriend’s face.

“Never. Maybe if you kiss me again, I’ll think about forgetting it.”

Kit’s thumbs brushed over her cheekbones and she chuckled. Their lips crushed against each other, the hands at her vest moving to rest on her lower back. With their bodies pressed together and a bright New Year down the road, Kit wouldn’t doubt for a second next year what love truly was. Not as long as she had her girl by her side.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you made it to the end? Thank you so much for giving my novel a read!! I'm hoping to query this project in 2021 and one day see it published. If you would like to keep up to date on my writing projects, follow me on tumblr @ howdy-writes
> 
> To everyone who has been encouraging me and supporting me thus far - I can't thank you enough! Words can't describe how much I adore each and every one of you.

“Need help getting the rest of the boxes, Ms. Emily?” Mr. Matthews called from the top of the ramp in front of the diner. He hobbled, grasping at the railing. After an entire week of packing, his knee was giving him a hard time. “I don’t mind lending a hand, but I might be a lil’ slow. Where you off to in such a hurry, anyway?”

“Home,” Emily replied, out of breath. She had a long checklist of things to do before the weekend started. Find her heels, make sure her dress still fits her, try to fix the mess that was her hair. She closed the trunk of her beetle after Mr. Jo set the last of her two dozen pies safely inside. She thanked him for all his help. “Remember, I’ll be gone this weekend for the wedding. And don’t worry about the boxes, I’ve got them taken care of!”

“That’s right.” Mr. Matthew’s thick brows knit together. He stood up straighter, hands on his lower back. A soft pop emitted from his spine and he groaned. “But you’ll be back Monday mornin’, won’t you?”

“Bright and early. I’ll leave the key under the rock out front of the house, alright? Take care, Mr. Matthews! Thanks again, Mr. Jo!”

“This came for you, Ms. Emily, don’t forget about it-” the typically quiet man held an envelope between thick fingers. A letter addressed to ‘Dana’s daughter’ arrived at his grocery earlier that day, but she hadn’t had time to stop and open it. Emily tucked it safely into her purse.

“Oh gosh, I almost forgot about it. Thank you, have a great weekend!”

Spring brought a warm, gentle breeze and the scent of honeysuckle that grew on the edge of the parking lot. Birds sang and danced between full, thick tree branches. Emily had never seen so many cars passing by. Everyone must’ve been out enjoying the nice weather. Excitement buzzed in the air. Taking a deep breath, she plucked a small bundle of honeysuckle off one of the bushes beside her car and tucked it behind her ear.

Emily’s heart raced as she pulled onto the road. So much had changed since her mother passed all those months ago. She remembered a time when she would cry on the way back to the house at the end of the cul de sac. All those restless nights sleeping on flour sacks and old potatoes. How every muscle in her body cried out in sorrow. When she pulled onto the familiar road, her heart no longer dropped to her stomach seeing the old bungalow at the end of the street. Bright golden light shined on it, making the dull brown exterior look cozy and warm. The front door had been painted a cheerful teal color - Mrs. Matthew’s favorite color.

The old beetle pulled around to the front and Emily hesitated to get out. From the driver’s seat she could make out a few lights on that she’d accidentally left on the night before. Without curtains obscuring the view, the house didn’t look like the childhood home she grew up in once upon a time. It took her a moment to let it all sink in.

“Just a few more boxes,” she murmured to herself, stepping out into the warm sun. Emily took her time going up to the door, imagining all the mud pies she made as a child in that very front yard. Or the nights she and her mother would sit out on a quilt and eat ham sandwiches. Fond memories she would always hold close.

Dust and fresh paint hit her all at once when she stepped inside. She passed by the indents in the carpet in the empty living room where the old furniture once sat. The dining room looked huge without the bulky table in the middle of it. Fingers brushed over the new frame on the entryway into the kitchen. No more indents in the wall where her mother kept track of her height. Emily hoped that the Matthews family would carry on the tradition with their grandkids.

The hallway had been painted in a bright cream color, covering up any scratches or scuffs made over decades of use. Every picture that once lined the walls had been tucked away into a box somewhere in the chaos. Emily paused in front of her mother’s room. The new carpet looked lovely. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she would cry seeing it. Her hand closed in on itself, giving herself a small squeeze of support.

“There you are,” Emily murmured when she entered her old blue bedroom. It was an off-white now for the new family and lacked her musical posters and old trophies. In the center of the blank room sat the last two boxes of odds and ends. She paused in front of it, taking one last look around. Children laughed in the distance a couple houses down and a red cardinal sat at her window, staring at her inquisitively. A smile tugged at her lips. Someone told her once that a cardinal was a sign that she had a loved one smiling down at her. She hoped if it was true, that Mama was proud of her.

-

Emily’s arms shook as she attempted to carry her two boxes of junk up the gravel path leading up to their home. The old cabin had its windows open to let in fresh air. The yellow curtains she picked out danced in the breeze. New rose bushes she put in just a week ago would hopefully bloom any day now. She clambered up the steps to the open front door, Nutmeg barking at her and playfully jumping up on her legs.

“Nutmeg, sweetie, I’m going to fall if you-” Emily began, catching the shoelace of her converse and tipping backwards. The boxes shifted in her arms, her things clattering. Before she could hit the ground, freckled arms wrapped around her waist and her shoulder blades connected with a warm body she’d grown very familiar with over the past few months.

“I gotcha,” Kit laughed, warm breath washing over her neck. Emily’s stomach flipped and she burst into a fit of laughter. With her girlfriend’s help, she steadied herself without spilling her boxes. Strong hands didn’t leave her hips right away. Instead, they massaged her tenderly. Kit reached her head around to kiss her cheek. “Let me get those, you’ve been on your feet all day.”

“Thank you, this was the last of everything.” Emily watched her walk around to take the boxes, admiring the contrast of the baby blue gingham blouse and the warm freckles that dotted Kit’s face and arms. Even with her face sweaty and flushed from yard work, she looked beautiful. Her overalls hugged the curve of her hips and chest. As always, a smile stretched across her round cheeks. Without thinking, Emily reached out and tousled some of her auburn hair. It had been shaved along the sides, but she kept it long on top. “Got your things packed for the wedding?”

“Sure do!” Kit winked, moving inside and setting the load down beside the old couch. “Still can’t believe Rodney’s letting me wear a suit for their wedding. Thought that ass would make me wear a dress like the other bridesmaids.” Her words trailed off as she straightened up and dusted her hands off. Warm brown eyes looked Emily up and down, making her squirm with delight. How could she not? She loved the way she looked at her. “You look gorgeous. I could eat you up.”

Emily pulled her into a hug, her lips brushing against her ear. Her heart was so full it took everything within her to not ravish Kit among all the moving boxes. Nutmeg jumped up onto the couch, tongue out and panting. She licked their arms, earning a giggle from her two mothers. She never predicted coming home would feel so good. 

“What’s this?” Kit paused, stooping down to pick up the letter that fell out of Emily’s purse. She lifted a brow. “‘Dana’s daughter’?”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Jo said he got this letter in the grocery’s mail earlier. Weird isn’t it?” Emily stood, taking the letter into her hands and inspecting it. The return address was for Salem, Oregon from a woman named Dawn Hutchinson. Odd, she thought, considering she had never met someone from Salem with the same surname.

The letter unfolded, revealing pretty floral stationary and bubbly handwriting. Birds tweeted overhead, the only noise aside from Nutmeg’s panting. She read over the letter. Then she read it again. And again.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kit moved up beside her, an arm securing around her waist. Emily’s hands shook and a cold sweat dripped down her back. Even after three reads, she couldn’t process what it said.

“I… I think this is from my Mama’s family.”


End file.
